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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28736523">Choices</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daisyapples/pseuds/Daisyapples'>Daisyapples</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Artist Ronan Lynch, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, I will name Adam's mother because canon doesn't, M/M, Mutual Pining, Poor Ronan, Rich Adam, Robert Parrish Is His Own Warning, Slow Burn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 13:07:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>44,361</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28736523</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daisyapples/pseuds/Daisyapples</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam Parrish is rich. Ronan Lynch is poor.</p><p>When Adam's mom commissions the mysterious artist known only as The Dreamer to create a sculpture for her husband's 50th birthday, Adam and Ronan are pushed into each others orbit and they learn that their choices are the most important thing they have.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>384</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>298</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. You soon find you have few choices</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I kind of imagine this as a long, winding, mutual pining fic that is angst and fluff and two boys figuring themselves out. I have a plan but I'm keeping it loose and am just going to have fun with it. </p><p>I won't lie; my update time will be slow but I haven't left a fic unfinished yet and I won't start with this one but do subscribe so you know when I've updated :) I want to thank @ivejardim and @hklnvgl on tumblr who gave me the idea and encouraged me to write it! </p><p>*EDIT: I will be updating on Fridays until college eats my life. </p><p>Comments and kudos are always appreciated!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This is not a story about fathers.</p><p>But it is a story about the choices fathers make. Choices by fathers who leave their sons, fathers who abuse their sons, and fathers who damage their sons. Choices that determine the course of their son's life. Choices that are like a car caught on black ice heading for the crash barriers. </p><p>There are two fathers in this story; Robert Parrish and Niall Lynch. </p><p>Robert Parrish came into his fortune through good luck, an unexpected inheritance and selfishness. </p><p>The Friday night he made the choice that changed his life, and that of his son, found him where it always did; drinking away his week’s earnings with his buddies from the refinery where he worked. He'd recently inherited fifty grand from a relative he'd never heard of and it burned a hole in his pocket. His wife was pregnant with a child he already regretted and his trailer leaked and swayed in even the slightest storm. </p><p>He hadn't told his wife about the money. He definitely didn't plan on telling her anytime soon. </p><p>Instead, he sat at the bar, thinking. It didn't come easily to him; he was a bitter, angry man who preferred swinging his fists before engaging his brain. But tonight, hunched over a bottle of cheap beer, he forced himself to consider what he had overheard when walking by the foreman’s offices earlier that day. </p><p>There’d been a site visit from some shareholders with the CEO himself wandering the yard, pretending he too was a working man. Behind him at the pool table, he could hear the boys laughing and doing impressions of the manicured, suit wearing prick. The hushed voices in the office had peaked his interest and he’d stopped under the open window of the shitty prefab and listened. The refinery had opened three new locations in the last six months; the workers all knew because they’d gone from underpaid to overworked and underpaid in the short time, stuck training in newbies with no dirt under their nails and no iron in their spines. In the whispered secrets, he heard that the company was going public in less than three months and that they were undervaluing the stocks now so they had time to buy as many as they could before the market pushed up the value later. He knew little of business, and even less of the stock market, but he knew gambling, and he knew he had fifty grand burning a hole in his pockets, and three months to buy as many stocks as he could. Sitting in the bar that night, Robert Parrish made his choice; if the rich men could profit off their own lies, no reason he couldn’t as well.</p><p>The next day he went to the library, read a dummies guide to the stock market, found himself a big city broker and bought himself fifty grand worth of stocks. He didn’t tell his wife. If his bet failed, she’d never know anything about the money, and if it didn’t, well, she wouldn’t be complaining. Six months later, the stocks had quadrupled in value and his fifty thousand had become one million. Six months after that he had tripled that. Turns out the gambler in him was good at choosing the right companies. He started reading books on investing and finance and business. He'd never had a chance to use his brain before, had dropped out of school at fourteen to work in the refinery. Robert Parrish was shrewd, bitter and had a chip on his shoulder the size of Virginia. By the time his son was five, Robert Parrish was a millionaire many times over. </p><p>But he was still a bitter, angry man who regretted his only child. </p><p>Niall Lynch wasn’t a bitter, angry man. </p><p>Niall Lynch was a dreamer and a conman with a tongue like silver and bad luck that followed him. He had three boys he adored and a wife he worshiped. </p><p>He also hadn’t had a real job in three years. </p><p>Unless you counted the drug smuggling he did every other weekend for an international crime family. Which he did count. Because it kept food on the table and a roof over his beloved family’s heads. This would have been enough for anyone with a dual passport and a steady income but not for a dreamer. Niall imagined a farm in the Virginia countryside, buried deep in the valleys, and hidden from spying eyes. He dreamt of cows and barns and wellies lined up by the door. </p><p>Niall made his choice; he took some money from his bosses, and then, when no one noticed, Niall took more and more and more. </p><p>Eventually, someone noticed. Someone was always going to notice. Niall and his worshiped wife ended up dead in an alley with a bullet in the head.</p><p>Their children were let go free as a warning to anyone else who thought to steal from the family again; your children will end up as orphans and we will enjoy watching them suffer. </p><p>Niall died with a dream in his heart and gripping his wife’s smaller hand. He died thinking of his sons. He died hoping they’d do better than him. </p><p>This is not a story about fathers but it is a story about the choices fathers make. </p><p>It is a story about what those sons do with the consequences of their fathers choices.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. For reasons wretched and divine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay! New schedule is an update every Friday! I will let you know if that has to change when I'm knee deep in essays and my thesis but we should be good for a few months at least! </p><p>Let me know what you think, I'm actually so excited for this fic so any feedback would be greatly appreciated! I'm also open to any ideas or scenes you'd like included. Also give me ideas for Ronan's sculptures; things from the book you think he'd make! This is fun for all the family (^○^)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"If you had three million dollars, what would you do?" </p><p>Ronan snorted but the sound was lost in the clatter of the trays, the swish of the soda machine and the chatter of customers. He glanced down at Blue. "Skip my next shift and fix up my dad's car."</p><p>"Boring." Blue wiped a string of loose hair off her forehead in an impatient, practiced movement. Nino’s was packed; every table was full and a queue of raven boys by the door. The windows were steamed up and foggy with condensation. Blue’s cheeks were red and her forehead was shiny with sweat. "I'd go down to South America and see the pygmy tyrant."</p><p>"You're a pygmy tyrant."</p><p>Blue rolled her eyes. "Original." </p><p>Someone dropped a plate; the loud smash followed by a sudden silence and then the <i>ooooohs</i> of the raven boys gathered in the booths. They both ignored it and kept their backs to the restaurant. They were standing at the pick up area, eating the staff pizzas that Nino's management laid out so they wouldn't have to give them breaks. </p><p>It was the only food Ronan had eaten all day. Glancing around, making sure none of the managers were about, he wrapped up four pieces in some tissues and tucked it into the apron wrapped around his waist. </p><p>Blue didn't look at him when she asked, "That bad?" </p><p>"Rent week," he replied, not looking at her either. It was easier to admit how low he'd sunk when there was no eye contact. "Gotta make sure Declan has something for work."</p><p>Blue nodded but got called away to one of her tables before she could reply. Ronan knew she’d be offering food again, and he’d refuse, and tomorrow she’d turn up at the market anyway with a bunch of pies the women in Fox Way just had to get rid of. It was a familiar dance, and he knew all the steps. It was easier to skip the first half and just take the food with a grudging thanks. Ronan had grown up in a house full of love and generosity; he could recognise the language of love as easily as he knew what it felt like when his shoes were about to fall apart and his stomach was one hour away from complaining with light headedness and blackened eyes. He had been hungry long enough to know that turning away free food was a fool's errand. Ronan threw an eye over his tables but everyone was still eating and ignored him. He shoved another slice in his mouth, eating it in three bites. He was stuffed but he had to eat when he could. His trousers were already too loose in him. </p><p>He lost himself for a few hours in orders and drinks and pizzas and a false smile that tore over his chapped lips but got him the most tips. When Declan appeared at the door, he managed to get across the restaurant without being called by one of his tables, and he slammed through the door, sucking in the fresh, cold night air that didn't stink like grease and cheese and cheap beer and expensive cologne. </p><p>Declan's face was sharp in the moonlight, underfed and overworked. "Bad shift?" </p><p>"Only thirty in tips so far," Ronan admitted, the usual panic about money a hard lump in his throat. "How far are we off rent?" </p><p>"Need another four hundred by Monday."</p><p>Ronan swallowed away the anger at the broken laptop that had to be replaced or Matthew would fail a class, and the two bounced checks because of that laptop that meant late charges for the bills and extra bank fees for bouncing a check. It had been a long time since they'd been this far into the red, and the fear had made the house quiet over the past few days. </p><p>"Okay. I've got the market tomorrow and I've another two shifts here before Monday." He scratched the back of his shaved head. "We'll have the money by then, no problem." If they didn't, the landlord would apply his own late charges and they'd end up in a debt spiral again. It had taken them months to get out of the first spiral after their parents had died and left them with nothing. "It'll be fine, Dec." He kept the fear from his voice, keeping it steady and calm. </p><p>"I'm so tired, man." </p><p>Ronan nodded but didn't reply. He knew exactly what Declan meant though; the tiredness was bone deep and a weight around his neck. </p><p>Remembering the food, he handed it to Declan. "Managed to get some pizza and half a garlic bread."</p><p>"Fuck. Thank you."</p><p>Ronan shrugged and bit down on his leather bracelets. "It's gonna get easier, Dec. It fucking will."</p><p>Declan nodded, "You better get back to work. Matthew's in for the night, he promised. I gave him the last of the food so maybe try grab yourself something if you can."</p><p>"I'll steal you and Matthew something for breakfast. I'm sure Calla will force something on me at the market."</p><p>Declan yawned and stretched. "I might see you tomorrow between shifts. If not, good luck. The pieces are great." He pulled Ronan into a one armed hug, and for one moment, all Ronan could smell was his mom and his dad and his family, and then Declan released him, and grinned tiredly." Love ya, bro."</p><p>Finding his voice, Ronan managed a hoarse <i>bye</i> and headed back into the restaurant. </p><p>The few weeks after the funeral had been filled with arguments and violent words, punches thrown and sneers shaping mouths into blades. It had only taken the arrival of the first of the overpaid bill, and then the second, and the third, and the rent being due, and a very interested social worker who wasn't sure if at eighteen Declan was mature enough to be legal guardian for his two minor brothers, for them to realise they needed to work together or they'd all be out on the street, or worse, separated in a group home. They didn't have the luxury to stay angry at each other. They couldn't afford to. </p><p>Ronan had turned that rage inwards, at his desperate dreams and wishful hopes, and outwards, at the damn rich raven boys he had to see every day. </p><p>The rest of the shift was a blur of snide remarks by raven boys and some sideeye by his managers which meant he couldn't sneak out anymore pizza. He finally ended with fifty dollars in tips but he'd have to spend some of that on food for Matthew. They'd both agreed to protect Matthew from all of this as much as possible. </p><p>He was untying his bike at the end of his shift when Blue slammed the back door open. </p><p>"Damn assholes,” she growled, stomping down the steps in her repurposed army boots. “Dunno how you even survive at that school."</p><p>"You've seen my boxing bag," he grinned. "You've used my boxing bag."</p><p>Blue shrugged. "Here," she handed Ronan a bundle of napkins. "Pizza. Garlic bread. Think I got some wedges as well."</p><p>"Shit, maggot, thanks."</p><p>Blue shrugged. "When they're watching you, they're not watching me." </p><p>Ronan laughed. "Glad I've introduced you to the joys of petty crime."</p><p>"You'll be at the market tomorrow?" </p><p>"I've got the shitbox until Dec's shift. I need to make four hundred dollars this weekend so I might need you to drive up the price a bit."</p><p>Blue snorted. "Petty crime and fraud. We do have the best fun."</p><p>"Night, maggot."</p><p>"Night, asshole."</p><p>***</p><p>Ronan groaned when his alarm woke him up. They'd found the couch that doubled as his bed on the side of the road. It had loose springs that dug into his skin and sagging cushions that drooped in the middle and made his back ache. Their tiny house only had two bedrooms which he'd insisted that Matthew and Declan take, one in school and one working the nightshift, a small bathroom and a sitting room that was also the kitchen. The walls were a dirty white, one covered in family photos that Matthew insisted they hang up and the others covered in posters. They had no TV or gaming system; they'd pawned them both just before Blue convinced Nino's to take on Ronan. Everything was shabby and tired looking, old and dull. Glancing at his cheap flip phone, Ronan groaned again and forced himself up. </p><p>He packed up the car with the sculptures he'd finished in the art room that week. He got the material for his sculptures for free; stolen or found. Some came from metal Declan stole from the factory, some from wood he pulled from different dumpsters and some from random junk he and Noah searched for around the countryside. </p><p>The market was empty at seven in the morning. Wiping sleep from his eyes, Ronan leaned back against the headrest and blinked tired tears from his eyes. He'd be at the market until three and then back into Nino's at five. </p><p>"You can sleep for an hour when you get home," he muttered, knowing it was a lie. </p><p>If he didn't keep his grades up, Matthew would be kicked out of Aglionby as well. When the school board and donors decided on giving the poor, pathetic Lynch brothers a scholarship to their prestigious school, it came with strings attached; no trouble, 3.5 GPO and if one of them messed up, they'd all get in trouble. And yet they couldn't understand why Ronan hated it and wasn't a simpering mess of gratitude. He followed their rules though, wore their donated secondhand uniforms and used their torn secondhand books. He kept up his GPA and answered questions when they asked him, handed in his essays on time and agreed to any extra work they offered. </p><p>Matthew's future was worth that much. </p><p>Six months to graduation and then he would never have to deal with any of this shit ever again. With both Declan and him working full time, it'd be easier. Declan might be able to stop working nights, maybe get an office job with some prospects, and Matthew wouldn't have to deal with the shadow of his grumpy older brother in school stopping him from shining like he deserved. </p><p>With another tired sigh, Ronan undid his seat belt and stepped into the cold morning air. He carried boxes of sculptures from the trunk of the shitbox to his usual stand, back and forth until he was set up. He looked down at the five sculptures he had to sell and ripped up his usual prices. </p><p>Today, he had to take the risk and charge more. </p><p>Usually he sold his sculptures for less than twenty dollars but he needed to make sure he made at least two hundred and fifty today so he only needed to make a hundred in tips over two shifts. That would be doable. He hung up the sign Noah had drawn for the front of his stall. The Dreamer was written in calligraphy between two wrought-iron, black gates with broken glass, broken statues and weeds beneath it. </p><p>He took out a pen and ripped a page from his sketchbook. He had too small sculptures, two medium and one large. The small ones were of ravens, one in flight and one sitting. He marked them both at forty. The first of the medium ones was three mice crawling on each other inside a box he'd designed off one of his mom's old music boxes. The other one was an old camaro based off the car that Gansey, the king of Aglionby, captain of the row team and all out all-American boy, drove. Swallowing his nerves, he wrote a defiant eighty beside each of them. </p><p>The largest sculpture was as tall as his thigh and shaped like an Irish elk. The antlers raised up to his hip. The whole sculpture had taken him six months to finish and was the piece he was most proud of. He hadn't been planning to sell it, he didn't want to, and the thought made his chest ache, but needs must. He put it at the back and threaded the ribcage with battery charged twinkly lights that he'd found in the dollar store and then accidentally forgotten to pay for. He'd also forgotten to pay for the batteries, the bread, milk and tins of beans that had found their way into his bag. </p><p>His father had taught him to steal; from stores and pockets and cash registers. Ronan didn't like to think about what he'd been preparing him for especially after the visit from his dad's boss after the funeral. </p><p>Taking a deep breath, he muttered <i>fuck it</i> before scribbling down <i>$400</i> and shoving the price by the elks feet before letting out the breath. It was half eight and no one was about yet so he pulled out his Latin homework and settled in to study.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. If you're sleeping, are you dreaming?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay team! Good news! I already have seven chapters written so we have at least seven weeks of updates coming and I'm still working pretty consistently so that will hopefully keep going! The story is quite angsty, but once I get them all set up with the pining, I'm going to add lots of fluff to even out the angst! Also Robert Parrish is his own warning, but there will be canon level abuse and canon level reactions to abuse, so be safe, lovelies! </p>
<p>I've had a terrible week so comments really would be appreciated or a share on <a href="https://daisyapples.tumblr.com/post/640390200744361984/this-is-not-a-story-about-fathers-but-it-is-a">Tumblr</a> or anything really!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Adam woke to a slamming door. He tensed and held his breath until the smooth engine of his dad's car slid under his window and disappeared down the gravel. When the gates at the end of the garden clanged shut, he finally let his muscles relax. He kept his head under the duvet, breath hot on his face. He knew his dad would be at the golf club all day, and that he was safe, but sometimes it took him a while to convince his body to move. </p>
<p>When the adrenaline fled his body, and his heartbeat wasn't thumping in his ears, he unfolded his tense muscles and lay on his back, starfished across his giant mattress. His phone buzzed and he knew it would be one of the row team looking for him, or another party, or someone wanting his homework, or his car, or some waspish gossip. </p>
<p>He ignored it. </p>
<p>During the week, he smiled and answered questions, talked to teachers and accepted extra work. He rowed every morning, listening to Gansey shouting as they all worked in tandem. He went to Nino's when he was invited, sitting in the booth with other raven boys and listening to them talk about their holidays and fathers jobs and new cars. He rarely included himself in the conversation; he knew he was no better than them because of who his dad was and the money they had, but he didn't want to be like them, he didn't want to live off his family name and his father's money. He wanted to make a success of himself. He wanted to prove himself. He wanted to get away from his father more than anything. </p>
<p>Sometimes he talked to Gansey, and felt like he was a person he could have a real conversation with, but he knew the other boy had the same walls up as he did, and they never managed to breach them. </p>
<p>When his phone finally stopped, he picked up the remote of the sound system his parents had gotten him for his seventeenth birthday and pressed the power button. Gentle, acoustic music leaked from the speakers and helped calm the last of the anxiety from his skin. His dad liked to tell him that his bedroom was the size of their old trailer and remind Adam how lucky he was that Robert had gotten them out of there. He liked to remind him with fists how much Adam needed to appreciate Robert and his talent. </p>
<p>The room was painted in muted greys with dark furniture with Adam's king sized bed as the centrepiece. There was a huge desk with a giant noticeboard over it covered in his notes and schedules, and shelves stuffed full of books and little league trophies, and a giant screen for his macbook. All the furniture was black and made from heavy wood. There was a couch at the end of his bed and a huge TV and gaming system that Adam rarely used; Robert Parrish expected results from <i>that expensive school I'm allowing you to attend</i>. </p>
<p>Adam hated it. </p>
<p>His mother had decorated it, ignoring any of Adam's suggestions, and making it a carbon copy of their bedroom except for the gaming system. It never felt like home, like safety, and he was always waiting for the other foot to fall. </p>
<p>He heard his mother's quiet footsteps moving on the landing outside, and knowing she'd be annoyed if he was still in bed, he stood up, throwing on a soft oversized hoodie and sat at his desk. He turned on his computer and pulled up his most recent essay, eyes scanning the page but not really taking anything in. </p>
<p>She opened his door without knocking. "Oh good, you're up. You're coming to the market with me. I need you to carry my bags." She waved her hand. "Last week, I ruined my manicure and your father and I have that event tomorrow night."</p>
<p>Adam looked wistfully at his computer screen but nodded. "I'll be ready in two seconds, let me just throw on some clothes." </p>
<p>He knew better than refusing either of his parents anything; at worst he got lectures on how ungrateful he was and at worst his father got angry. </p>
<p>She clicked her tongue and nodded. "Hurry. I don't want to miss all the vintage pieces. And I want to buy more of that awful tea off the psychics. It helped my anxiety last week."</p>
<p>Adam nodded and rushed to get dressed. </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>The market was quaint; stalls lined the edges of a small park at the centre of Henrietta, children played in the centre and picnic tables had been set up beside the playground where people could eat the food they'd bought. Pastries, fresh fruit and the waft of flowers scented the air. </p>
<p>He bought his mom a coffee at the entrance of the market. He got one for himself as well to sip while he trailed behind her. He nibbled on the breakfast roll he'd bought and let her load him up like a pack mule. They didn't talk much, they rarely did, but it wasn't unpleasant. His coat and hoodie were warm, his jeans new but soft, and his runners were comfortable. The crisp winter air bit at his face so he tucked it into his scarf and held his second coffee between his gloved hands. People chatted around him, children screaming and laughing in the playground and stall owners shouting about their wares. </p>
<p>Adam had three essays to work on, some math homework, and a lot of readings, but he had the whole weekend stretching ahead of him and no plans but to study, so he allowed himself to enjoy the early morning freedom. </p>
<p>He was watching two small kids trying to push each other on the swings when his mom called him. </p>
<p>"Adam, come here," she said, voice more impatient than loving. </p>
<p>He wasn't sure the last time she'd said something loving to him. He had to assume she did when he was little. Pushing those thoughts from his head, he turned and forced a smile. "Yes?" </p>
<p>She examined him, probably trying to decide if he sounded disrespectful in that one quietly spoken word, before saying, "Do you think your father would like this for his office?" </p>
<p>He wandered over to a stall she was standing at, dropping the bags at his feet and gazing over the table. There were five metal sculptures spread across the wood. He almost laughed when he noticed a camaro that looked exactly like the one Gansey drove. If they were better friends, he would have bought it for him, but they weren't, so he didn't. The sign hanging off the front sort of reminded him of some of the drawings he'd seen in the art room in Aglionby; it wasn't quite professional but it was pretty nicely done. He glanced up and froze when he saw who was running the stall. </p>
<p>Ronan Lynch was very purposely not looking at him. Adam could tell because it was the same way Ronan very purposely didn't look at him in Latin when Adam beat him to an answer. Sometimes all Adam wanted was to feel those blue eyes on him, feel the weight of them. </p>
<p>He ignored those feelings. </p>
<p>Ronan Lynch was famous in Henrietta. He and his two brothers were orphans whose parents were murdered for reasons still unknown. After the funeral, they'd moved into a tiny run down house way out in the sticks and were given scholarships to Aglionby. Declan had graduated last year top of his class and was rumoured to be working in the factory at the edge of town. Matthew was adored by everyone who met him and Ronan was the only student capable of beating Adam in Latin. </p>
<p>They were also infamously protective of each other. None of them caused trouble in school, but when Joseph Kavinsky tried to sell the smallest Lynch drugs, Declan and Ronan had found him and made sure he'd never approach their brother again. Kavinsky was out of school for a month and claimed he'd tripped. No one touched the littlest Lynch and everyone in Aglionby knew what happened if they tried. Adam could admit that it helped that Matthew was a friendly, sunshine kid who seemed to like everyone he talked to. </p>
<p>Ronan Lynch was the exact opposite; shaved head, expressions like a warzone, heavy black boots, ripped jeans and a tattoo like reaching claws crawling up his neck. Rumours bounded about how he'd afforded it because everyone knew the Lynch brothers were dirt poor. </p>
<p>Ronan's cold blue eyes narrowed when he finally glanced at Adam but he didn't say anything. He smiled at Adam's mom but it was a shape Adam had never seen on him before. It wasn't the soft one he sometimes shot at his brother in the hallways of Aglionby, and it wasn't the forced one he used in Nino's when dealing with the taunts from the rowing team. This smile was tight but it was tinged with a desperation Adam recognised from his own mirror when he was trying to hide his fear. </p>
<p>Adam glanced away, not liking the reflection of his own emotions on a Lynch's face. </p>
<p>"Adam, pay attention." His mother snapped his fingers in his face. Adam couldn't help but notice that Ronan raised an eyebrow at this. "Which of these do you think your father would like best?"</p>
<p>His mom pointed between the mice and the ravens, but Adam could see the tight set of Ronan's shoulders and the dark bags under his eyes. </p>
<p>"The elk, mom. He could put it in his office. It'll intimidate his clients."</p>
<p>Ronan stilled except for one hand that fisted so tightly, the tendons stuck out on his forearm. "That's four hundred," he said quietly. </p>
<p>"Yes, yes. That's fine," she replied, waving away Ronan's quiet words. "Are you sure, Adam?" </p>
<p>Adam swallowed and nodded. "I think so. Do you not?" </p>
<p>He knew he should make himself sound certain but a sudden surge of fear made him quiet. If his dad didn't like it, and his mom said Adam had chosen it, he didn't know how he'd react. </p>
<p>Adam spent his life avoiding those reactions. </p>
<p>His mom sighed. "Men. You're as bad as your father." She rolled her eyes and pinched his cheek. "You're lucky you've got his looks." </p>
<p>The coffee churned in Adam's stomach but he managed to smile. "The elk, mom. Give him the money."</p>
<p>"Oh yes, of course. How much for you to deliver? I'm obviously not going to carry it around."</p>
<p>Ronan's eyes widened and when he smiled, it was bright and elastic. Adam's stomach tripped over its feet, and he looked away, not understanding, and not wanting to understand, the reaction. </p>
<p>"Forty for delivery," Ronan's voice was lighter than it had been before but Adam refused to glance up from his shoes. "I can deliver it about half three today."</p>
<p>"Okay fine." She sighed. "You're lucky I went to the bank today. I want the mice too. They'll be adorable in my garden, right?" </p>
<p>Adam nodded. "Do you want to take it now?" </p>
<p>"No, the boy just said he'd deliver them for forty."</p>
<p>"Forty for the elk, mom." He didn't know why he was pushing this but something about how the tension had dropped from Ronan's shoulders made Adam feel a little better about the day. "The mice are probably another twenty."</p>
<p>Ronan visibly swallowed and nodded. "Twenty for medium deliveries."</p>
<p>"Fine. Whatever." She started pulling notes from her purse, placing them into Ronan's waiting hands. "Five hundred and forty. Does the artist take commissions?" </p>
<p>Ronan's eyes shot up from the money clutched in his hand. "The artist?" </p>
<p>"Well, you're a child," she snapped. "I hardly paid almost six hundred dollars for a child's art, did I?" </p>
<p>"I just work the stall," he replied quickly. "Artists. Temperamental fu… people."</p>
<p>Adam snorted at the near miss and Ronan glared. </p>
<p>"Good. How do I contact him? I want to discuss my ideas."</p>
<p>"If you leave your number, I'll get him to call you." Ronan pulled out a piece of scrap paper and handed it to her. </p>
<p>His mom took it between two fingers like it was dirty. Adam saw Ronan swallow back his reaction to the disrespect. Again Adam recognised the action and it made his stomach ache. She wrote down her number carefully and handed it back with the same disgusted gesture. </p>
<p>Ronan folded it up and put it carefully in his pocket. "I'll make sure he contacts you this week."</p>
<p>He wondered about the artist and how much pressure he must put Ronan under if he was so stressed to make a sale. Ronan looked uncomfortable now like he was unsure how to continue the conversation. His hand was gripping the money so tightly his knuckles were almost breaking the skin. </p>
<p>Adam quietly sighed and said, "Mom, are you ready? I think the fruit guy is starting to close up."</p>
<p>Ronan's eyes darted to Adam's face and away again. "I just need your address to drop this off."</p>
<p>"Oh, we're the big house at the end of Newby Road, " his mom answered, shoving her purse back in her bag. "Ring the buzzer at the gate and someone will let you in."</p>
<p>Ronan nodded. "Thanks for your custom." She nodded and stalked off. "Bye, Parrish." </p>
<p>Adam glanced up, eyes wide at Ronan knowing who he was. "Yeah. See ya, Lynch."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. All you have is your fire</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>After all the gamestop drama this week, I feel like Robert's stock market success actually makes sense so here's me feeling pretty good about myself lol! </p>
<p>Thank you so much for your support on this fic! I'm now up to chapter ten so we're killing it! Go team! </p>
<p>Also this is a little early because I've a busy day tomorrow!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Adam Parrish and his mom walked away before Ronan managed to pocket the money. He was still standing there staring at it when Blue strolled over with a bag of what looked like the pies he knew she'd bring and two cups of coffee. </p>
<p>"What's that?" She nodded to the money in his hand. When he didn't reply instantly, she nudged his shoulder. Her spiky hair tickled his cheek. "Yo, asshole, you okay?" </p>
<p>Ronan blinked. "I sold the fucking elk."</p>
<p>"Oh cool, how much for?" </p>
<p>"And the mice." He sat down and looked at the money again before pulling his wallet out and tucking it into his pocket. "Parrish was here."</p>
<p>"From the row team? That's always in Nino's watching you?" She smirked. "The elegant one?" </p>
<p>"Watching me?" Ronan's eyes snapped up to hers. "Elegant?"</p>
<p>She shrugged. "What? He's the prettiest boy I've ever seen."</p>
<p>Something uncomfortable thudded in his chest. He didn't want to ask if Parrish really did watch him because he didn't care. He definitely didn't care. </p>
<p>"Alright, maggot." He gestured lazily. "Give me my pies and my coffee."</p>
<p>She hid the bag and cups behind her back. "How much did you make?" </p>
<p>Without any permission from him, his lips stretched into a bright smile. </p>
<p>Blue blinked. "That much?" </p>
<p>"Five hundred and forty." Awe made his voice a stranger. "That's… It's fucking everything we needed. We can afford rent <i>and</i> food. Shit."</p>
<p>"Fuck," she whispered empathically. "Asshole."</p>
<p>Ronan nodded. "Declan is going to lose his fucking shit."</p>
<p>Blue placed the pies down where the elk had been and distractly handed him a coffee. They stood in silence for a long moment just sipping coffee and staring out at the crowds. Ronan hadn't expected much when the woman approached him; she'd had perfectly highlighted hair so different from his mom's natural blonde, and bright red nails that rested like bloody prints against the white of her coffee cup. He hadn't expected much from a woman that screamed money from her silk scarf and fur coat down to her leather ankle boots. </p>
<p>When Adam Parrish stepped up beside her, Ronan's eyes had instantly been drawn to his gloved hands wrapped around his cup and then to everything else. Seeing Adam Parrish dressed in anything but his school uniform was a shot of adrenaline that Ronan hadn't needed. </p>
<p>He hadn't missed how Adam had looked at him, had read him like an open book, eyes scanning his face and body, and then pushing his mom to buy the most expensive thing Ronan had, and he hadn't missed the hint to charge more for delivery. He didn't like feeling seen, didn't like being watched. He didn't like knowing that <i>Adam Parrish</i> could read the desperation off him so easily. </p>
<p>If Gansey was king of the raven boys, Adam was the prince. Neither of them knew who Ronan was and he preferred it that way. Intellectually, Ronan was aware that everyone knew who he and his brothers were, the poor orphaned Lynchs, but the less he had to deal with that reality the better. </p>
<p>He was dragged away from his thoughts by Blue's pissed off voice. </p>
<p>"I am not a sex worker who's time you can buy," she snarled and stormed off, not even bothering to say goodbye to Ronan. </p>
<p>Ronan glanced up from where he was staring at his cup. "Jesus Mary," he muttered when he saw it was Gansey himself, somehow conjured from Ronan's head. "What did you say to her?" </p>
<p>Gansey blushed, a brief staining of pink across his aristocratic cheekbones. "I asked for her number and if she wanted to go get lunch," he replied, seeming dazed and confused. </p>
<p>Blue tended to have that effect on raven boys. Ronan was only immune because he'd known her his whole life, had spent almost three years in Mountain High watching her destroy anyone who annoyed her, but mostly because he too was an asshole like her. </p>
<p>"She said she was working, and when I offered to settle the difference, she… Well, you heard." </p>
<p>It was the most human he had ever seen the other boy and it made his skin tighten. He could be friends with this Gansey in another lifetime. </p>
<p>But this wasn't another lifetime. </p>
<p>Ronan snorted. "Yeah, most people who work for a living don't like to be considered as something others can just buy. Fuck, Dick. Be better."</p>
<p>Gansey froze. "What did you call me?" </p>
<p>"Richard. Dick." Ronan shrugged but his heart was in his throat. This boy had the power to destroy him and his brothers. </p>
<p>"No," Gansey examined him over wire framed glasses. "I mean, how do you know me?" </p>
<p>Ronan rolled his eyes but he felt as small as he had when that woman had called him a child and was barely willing to handle the paper he gave her. "I'm aware I'm below you in just about every meaning of the word," he snarled. "But we're in like three classes together."</p>
<p>Gansey squinted. "Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't recognise you out of your uniform. Ronan, right? World hist, Latin and math."</p>
<p>"A plus. Well done." He laced the words in acid. "Now, can I help you with anything, or did you just come here to drive off my best friend?" </p>
<p>Gansey had the grace to look ashamed again. "I thought I saw Adam. He's so rarely out on the weekend and I just wanted to say hello but he was gone by the time I got here." He looked suddenly forlorn, rubbing his thumb along his lower lip. "Are you and him friends?" </p>
<p>Ronan glanced down at himself, at his black jeans that were ripped from age, not fashion, at his faded black t-shirt and his oversized hoodie that he'd picked up in a charity shop for five dollars. Even his leather boots were second hand and so worn the leather was torn in places and literally <i>duct-taped</i> back together. </p>
<p>He looked back up and raised a single eyebrow. "Do I look like the type of person Adam Parrish would be friends with?" </p>
<p>"I don't see why not. I mean I don't know what type of friend he likes since he seems to have nothing but acquaintances." Gansey's gaze moved to the table. "Did you make these?" </p>
<p>Ronan shrugged but didn't answer. </p>
<p>He didn't lie but he also knew how to bend the truth so far the words no longer painted a true picture. He knew what he'd told Adam's mom wasn't technically the truth but it also was true in places; he did just work the stall and most artists were temperamental fuckers. Case in point, Noah. </p>
<p>He had implied not true things but he hadn't said them. Poverty has taught him to bend if not break his principles. </p>
<p>He'd also learned a lesson when he almost blew the sale; no one would buy his art if they thought he'd made it. The Lynch name was synonymous with bad luck and shady deals in Henrietta. It was better to leave it away from this. </p>
<p>"Is this my camaro?" </p>
<p>"It's a camaro," he replied carefully. "Can't say for certain where the artist got his inspiration from."</p>
<p>That was also mostly true. Ronan didn't know where he got the inspiration for his sculptures. His brain just created the path, usually in his dreams, and he followed it until he had a finished product. </p>
<p>"The detail is exquisite."</p>
<p>Ronan snorted because it had better be. </p>
<p>Ronan had spent three months sketching the car from a window that overlooked the school car park before he'd started shaping metal to his design. </p>
<p>"I want it." Gansey was already reaching for his wallet. He sighed. "Damn. I've only sixty on me."</p>
<p>Ronan's heart surged. Another sixty would bring him up to six hundred dollars. That was a fortune. They could put some away and start building a safety net. Or better yet, pay the water bill before it got cut off again. That had been a fun month showering and stealing water from Aglionby. Although having hot showers had almost made it worth it. </p>
<p>Forcing his voice into chilled nonchalance, he said, "Sixty is fine. If you like it so much."</p>
<p>Gansey's face lit up into a terrific smile. "Oh, thank you. I really appreciate it." He handed Ronan the notes, grin resting on stark white teeth. "You work in Nino's, right?" </p>
<p>Ronan nodded. </p>
<p>"I can drop the other twenty in tonight. The rowing team is having dinner before the party in Tad's. Will that suit?" </p>
<p>"Just get them all to tip this time and we'll call it even," Ronan replied, hating turning down money but needing some pride in front of Gansey's sincerity. </p>
<p>Gansey laughed. "I can do that." He picked up the camaro carefully and just as carefully asked, "Will you be going to Tad's?" </p>
<p>Ronan laughed. "No, man. I'm the fucking pity case. No one wants me at their parties."</p>
<p>Gansey's face fell but he nodded. As he did all the relaxed charm fell away, and he was back to being the unreachable boy he was in the halls of Aglionby. "Well, anyway, it was nice to talk to you outside of school. Do apologise to your friend for me."</p>
<p>"Thanks for your custom," Ronan just about managed as Gansey disappeared back into the crowd. </p>
<p>Ronan watched him get lost in the scattering of people and was left with the disconcerting feeling that Gansey, King of Henrietta, the person who had all the little raven boys following after him like he was the pied piper and they were his rats, was in actual fact, terribly lonely. </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Finding Adam's house was as easy as his mom had implied. Newby Road stretched long with mansions built far off the road and hidden by long drives and high shrubbery. The Parrish's mansion was the biggest of all of them, at the top of the road, gates set between two large stone pillars and a small plaque declaring who its owners were. </p>
<p>Wishing his dad's BMW worked and he wasn't driving the shitbox, Ronan reached out and pressed the buzzer.  A camera, on top of one of the stone pillars, swiveled around and focused on him. </p>
<p>The voice that cackled out was snotty and impatient. "Can I help you?" </p>
<p>"I'm here with a delivery for Mrs Parrish," Ronan relief just as snottily. "A sculpture she bought at the market today."</p>
<p>There was no reply but the gates swung open. Cursing, Ronan drove up the gravel driveway. Sleek flower beds lined it and crisp, green grass stretched out bright in the weak October sun. Ronan's front garden consisted of brown grass, and his dad's car parked up on it, covered with a tarp. </p>
<p>Water was expensive. They couldn't afford to keep their grass green. </p>
<p>He stopped in front of the house and startled at the sight of Adam Parrish sitting down on the steps with a steaming cup in his hands. Taking a steadying breath, he turned off the engine and exited the car. </p>
<p>"Hey, poor boy," he called. "You here to make sure I don't rob anything?" He kept his tone light even though a little part of him thought it was probably true. Adam's mom hadn't hidden her distrust of a Lynch. </p>
<p>"Make sure you don't get lost. Poor boy?" </p>
<p>"Poetic irony, look it up."</p>
<p>Adam rolled his eyes. "Do you need help carrying it?" </p>
<p>"You can take the mice box. Wouldn't want you to mess up those soft hands of yours."</p>
<p>Adam snorted but took the box from him. Ronan hoisted up the elk under one arm and waved his free hand. "Lead the fucking way."</p>
<p>With a huff of laughter, Adam led him up the steps and into an entrance hall that could have fit Ronan's entire house. He swallowed down the blinding rage at how unfair it was that he and his brothers had to scrape and steal just to survive, and <i>this</i> house and <i>this</i> family existed less the two miles away with all this money. </p>
<p>Neither of them spoke as Adam led him through a maze of corridors. He finished his coffee and handed it to a lady carrying a tray of dishes with a polite thank you. The walls were a boring beige. Photos of Adam's parents on exotic holidays and on cruises and at fancy looking parties lined them in expensive looking frames. What caught Ronan's eyes was that Adam didn't appear in any of the photos. </p>
<p>"So what?" He asked, sarcasm lacing the tone. "You're not photogenic or something?" </p>
<p>Adam's back stiffened but he didn't reply. </p>
<p>Ronan thought about the wall of photos in his house; they had none of the formality of these pictures, but none of the coldness either. The Lynch family tended to just crawl over each other, jump on top of each other, hug each other and hang off each other upside down. The photos were blurred, full of laughter and smiles. Love saturated them. Even their shitbox house was full of love. Even without their parents. </p>
<p>Ronan pushed away the thought. </p>
<p>Adam's house had none of the easy charm Ronan's owned. It had nothing but cold eyes and empty smiles. </p>
<p>Ronan was not hugely pleased that this day seemed to be giving him all sorts of revelations about his fellow raven boys. He didn't want to know that fucking Gansey was fucking lonely or that fucking Adam Parrish was living in this cold tomb of a fucking house with distant parents. </p>
<p>
  <i>Jesus Mary</i>
</p>
<p>Not like he didn't have enough problems without feeling sorry for rich kids with rich people problems. </p>
<p>They reached a heavy mahogany door. Adam knocked twice, gently, almost hesitantly. When no one replied, he opened it slowly and gestured for Ronan to follow him. </p>
<p>"He's at the golf club."</p>
<p>"Why'd you knock then?" Ronan glanced around the office. It followed the door with heavy, wood furniture and dark leather chairs. The desk was board and deep, covered with papers and two giant computer screens. "If you knew he wasn't here?" </p>
<p>"He might have come home early." Adam pointed at a space under the window. "You can leave it there."</p>
<p>Ronan lowered down the elk where he pointed. "Why would it matter if he came home?" </p>
<p>"He expects me to knock," Adam spoke quietly and Ronan suddenly realised that everything Adam did in the house was quiet, almost silent. Even his steps made no noise. "Are we done?" </p>
<p>"That's up to you, Parrish. Don't you want to give me the grand tour?" </p>
<p>Adam rolled his eyes. "I have homework to do."</p>
<p>"Latin," Ronan said, knowing how bitter Adam was about being second in the class. "I can help you know, tutor you."</p>
<p>"Yeah and charge me too, I bet."</p>
<p>Ronan shrugged. "Gotta make the rent somehow." He bit his bracelets when he realised what he'd said. </p>
<p>Like he sensed his discomfort, Adam shook his head. "I'm good, thanks. I'm going to catch up to you this year."</p>
<p>Ronan snorted. "Sure ya will, poor boy. Now, can you show me the way out of this giant, fucking mausoleum you call a house?"</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Would you be the savior of the broken, the beaten and the damned?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>GUYS! Thank you for all your support! I'm really enjoying writing it and it's always nice to know others are too! </p><p>TW: Robert Parrish and canon typical abuse in the middle section.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>On Monday, Adam put back on his mask, put back on the friendly but distant boy who was liked by everyone but known by no one. He smiled at Gansey when he called hello, and laughed at the row teams stories from Tad's party, and dealt with the banter of him having no life, and why he never came out during the weekend, and why he never had any fun. </p><p>He smiled through it all, ignoring the worst of the insults, and practiced Latin verbs in his head. Since having Ronan Lynch in his house on Saturday, he'd had an itch beneath his skin. He'd tried to bury it like he did all his unwanted emotions through hard work and study, but he was still  looking forward to Latin, to seeing Ronan again, and he was trying not to think about why. </p><p>"Adam," Gansey called as he headed towards his first class after training. </p><p>Adam paused and let him catch up. Usually Gansey spoke to him when he needed to tease out a math problem or discuss the Latin homework. "Hey, man."</p><p>"Hey. " He rubbed his thumb across his lip and then placed a mint leaf in his tongue. "I saw you at the market on Saturday, but by the time I got over, you were already lost to the crowd." He grinned ruefully. "Did you like the sculptures? I bought the camaro."</p><p>Adam grinned. "I saw that and thought of you."</p><p>Gansey's smile was like a burning sunrise. "Nice to be seen." He laughed loudly, almost seeming embarrassed by what he had said. "Do you know Ronan Lynch?" </p><p>Adam ignored the niggle of nerves in his chest at the mention of the other boy. He shook his head. "Hadn't talked to him before Saturday to be honest. Why?"</p><p>Gansey shrugged looking further than ever from the boy who walked the halls of Aglionby like some type of king. "I spoke to him a little at the market and he seems interesting. Someone worth knowing."</p><p>"Well, we all know his story."</p><p>"But what's in a story?" </p><p>After the weekend, Adam couldn't help but agree. </p><p>They reached the Latin classroom and stopped talking as they walked through the door. The room was empty except for Ronan who was slouched down in his chair, tapping a pen against an open notebook, every part of his uniform perfect except for his tie which was apoplectic in its tying. His trousers were tucked into heavy, untied boots that had duct tape strategically placed across the black as if to prove Ronan didn't care about what was expected, that he appeared to play by their rules, but he didn't agree with any of them. </p><p>Adam's tongue felt heavy and his hands were suddenly too big and his arms too unwieldy. He didn't understand what had happened between Saturday morning, before he had known what it was to be trapped beneath those icy blue eyes, and now, but he didn't like it, and he didn't want to be around this boy who got under his skin so easily. </p><p>Still, he nodded as he sat at his usual desk beside him. Gansey slid into his in front of Adam and turned to look at them both.</p><p>"How was the rest of your weekend, Ronan?" </p><p>Ronan glanced up from where he was sketching hands onto the open page of his notebook. Noticing Adam's eyes on them, he slammed it shut and glared at Gansey. </p><p>"What?" </p><p>"Your weekend? How was it? Sorry about the row team on Saturday night, I know they're not great when they're altogether."</p><p>Adam started taking books from his bag but he couldn't help the interest in Ronan's answer. </p><p>"Least they tipped," he replied, not quite as unfriendly as he usually was. </p><p>Gansey beamed. "I made sure like you said." He turned to Adam. "Ronan let me off twenty dollars on the camaro sculpture but I had to make the rowing team tipped."</p><p>Adam nodded. </p><p>"How's your Latin, Parrish?" </p><p>"Est perfectum, Lynch," he replied. </p><p>Ronan smirked. "We'll see."</p><p>Gansey beamed but the smile dimmed when one of the row team called his name. He got distracted by the swarm of boys crowding around his desk. Some of them threw comments at Adam and he responded with a forced smile. </p><p>When he looked back, Ronan was sketching again and Adam didn't know how to get his attention back. Pushing away the <i>want</i>, he opened his book and read the next chapter until Whelk called the class to attention. </p><p>***</p><p>Adam got home from school on Tuesday, tired and cranky. He did the first thing he always did when he arrived in the house; he checked it was just him and the people who ran the household. Adam didn’t like to call them staff or servants or <i>those people</i> like his mother did. Neither of his parents did housework. They didn't cook. Although Robert did insist on a nightly meal together so he could grill Adam on his day, and tell Adam about what he'd made that day, what he'd invested in, what he'd sold or bought, who he'd beaten and who he'd humiliated. Adam had dreaded dinner his whole life, he still did, but he'd figured out the worth of them when he was fourteen. </p><p>Robert Parrish was not a jealous man when it came to knowledge. He enjoyed bragging and he enjoyed having an audience for it, and Adam craved knowledge, craved understanding, craved information. When he was fourteen, Adam had bought his first stocks. He’d listened to his dad spew on about his day, and thought if he could do it, so could Adam. </p><p>So he’d sat down at his computer and done it. </p><p>He hadn’t even used Robert’s money to start it. He’d won a thousand dollars in a science fair competition and had invested that in stocks. When Robert had asked him what he’d done with it, he’d laughed at Adam’s answer. He thought Adam had lost it all and <i>only real men can play with the big boys, Adam</i>.</p><p>Adam’s portfolio was now worth three million dollars. </p><p>The minute he turned eighteen, he was leaving this godforsaken house and this horrible town that worshiped his father, and he was going to college, any of the ivy league colleges, paying for it himself, and never having to see any of them again. </p><p>He spent an hour checking his stocks, selling the ones on the way down and buying ones on the way up. He was excessively careful, saving most of his profits and only allowing himself a certain amount each month to work with. Building up a safety net was more important than some big win. Robert was the gambler, it was how he'd made some of his biggest profits, but also some of the losses that he'd taken out on Adam with his fists. </p><p>Adam had no interest like his father did in <i>playing the game</i>. </p><p>Adam wanted to know that no one could take his safety again and money, his own money, was the only way he could guarantee that. When he was sure he'd done everything he could for the day, he closed down the system, cleared his history and started his school work. </p><p>Robert slammed his way in through the front door just after six and the noise echoed up to Adam's room. He stiffened and then forced himself to relax. Finishing his history essay, he practiced Latin verbs, smiling a little at how Ronan had smirked at him every time he'd beaten Adam for an answer in class. Usually it was annoying but something about the grin today made Adam's toes curl. It felt dangerous making Ronan Lynch smile like that. It felt like he held something delicate and powerful in his hands and he was desperately afraid he'd break it. </p><p>"Adam!" Robert shouted up the stairs, anger saturating the word. </p><p>Adam swallowed and headed downstairs. "Hello, sir."</p><p>"What the hell is this?" He waved a sheet of paper in Adam's face. "Sure, you've all A's but your second in Latin again. Is that Lynch boy still smarter than you?" He snarled. "That boy doesn't even pay to go to that school. He barely has a damn brain. You should have met his father? Fool and a dreamer, is that what you want to be?" </p><p>Adam didn't bother pointing out that he was top in every other class and on route to being valedictorian. He just nodded. "No, sir."</p><p>"You better not shame me, boy."</p><p>Adam nodded. "No, sir."</p><p>"A Lynch is not better than a Parrish. You hear me, boy?" </p><p>Adam nodded, desperately trying to figure out how to defuse the situation and lower the simmering tension burning the edges of the hallway. </p><p>When Robert's fist fell, Adam barely had time to get his hands up to protect his face. </p><p>***</p><p>Adam had a black eye on Wednesday morning and couldn't go to school. He didn't want to spend the day in the house though so he took the sleek, gray Porsche his parents had insisted on buying him for his sixteenth birthday to <i>keep up appearances, Adam, not because you deserve it</i> and went for a drive. </p><p>He'd already caught up on his homework so he spent the rest of the day wandering through a forest he'd found a few months before, trailing his hands over the cold tree trunks and pretending the hissing of the wind through the leaves was voices comforting him. His face ached from his father's fists and his heart hurt from his mom's silence. After a few hours, he drove back to Henrietta and parked the car on Main Street. School would be out by now but he didn't want to go back to his house yet. </p><p>He bought a coffee and sat on a bench in the same park as the market had been in. The coffee was hot in his hands. His breath billowed out in white clouds. He was glad of the warm clothes; the hoodie lined with fleece and his heavy jacket, good jeans and leather boots. He has his hood up so no one would see his face.</p><p>"Parrish?"</p><p>He jolted and glanced up from where he was staring at his boots. Ronan Lynch stood a couple of feet away, his bike leaning against his hip and his arms wrapped around his thin hoodie. </p><p>Ronan's eyes scanned his face, eyes tripping over the bruise and Adam's turned down mouth. "Missed you in Latin today, Poorboy."</p><p>Adam nodded, and tucked his face into his thick, soft scarf. "Wasn't feeling well."</p><p>"Yeah," Ronan scoffed. "Fucking looks it."</p><p>Adam heart thumped in his ears and he felt like he might puke. He couldn't deal with him, not today. "Lynch, don't."</p><p>Ronan held up his hands and said softly, gentle enough that it made a lump form in Adam's throat, "I can teach you to box." </p><p>Adam shifted in his seat and looked back down at his boots. He wanted to spend time with Ronan, wanted to get to know him under the dark exterior, violent smiles and harsh words. But Adam rarely got what he wanted. </p><p>He shook his head, his father's voice still clear in his head. "We're not friends just because my mom bought some sculptures off your boss, or because Gansey made us talk." He hated the words even as he said them but no one could know, no one could find out. He couldn't have friends until he left Henrietta, until he was safe. "So just leave it. We're not friends," he repeated, hating how the words came out as sharp as glass. </p><p>Ronan huffed out a noise that sounded like it was meant to be a laugh but fell just short. "Fucking clearly, Parrish. Sorry I forgot my place in the fucking Aglionby hierarchy." He threw a long leg over his bike. "I'm sure you have all your other friends queuing up to help you."</p><p>Adam closed his eyes, wanting to take the words back, but Ronan was already gone.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Stuck inside a broken life I can't wish away</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Not to lie, I almost forgot to update! My brain is clearly not braining today! </p>
<p>Thank you for all the support! Comments and kudos are always appreciated!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Ronan got home, pissed off and embarrassed about the conversation with Adam, Greenmantle sat in their sitting room. </p>
<p>Ronan froze. </p>
<p>"Shut the door," Greenmantle scolded. "You're letting the heat out and I'm pretty certain you can't afford to."</p>
<p>Declan, wrecked and bleak, sat straight backed on a kitchen chair. He chewed his lip and stared at the man stretched out on their tiny couch. Ronan's sheets were in a ball in the corner of the room, shoved there like an afterthought. </p>
<p>Ronan was viscerally grateful that Matthew played tennis after school most days. Even though the fees were an expense they moaned about during the worst months. Fear and rage pounded for control inside his skull until he was dizzy from inaction. He forced himself to be calm and still. </p>
<p>He nodded jerkily at Greenmantle, shutting the door gently. Keeping his face blank, he crossed the room and lowered himself carefully onto the second kitchen chair. Nobody said anything for so long Ronan's skin itched. </p>
<p>Finally, Greenmantle sighed. "So you still have a roof over your heads? I have to admit I'm a little impressed." </p>
<p>Declan nodded curtly. </p>
<p>Ronan bit his cheek to stop the vitriol on his tongue from escaping. </p>
<p>"Aren't you going to offer your guest a drink?" </p>
<p>Ronan stiffened, but before he could say anything, Declan said, "We have water or instant coffee."</p>
<p>"No." Greenmantle's mouth curled down in disgust. "I'll wait until I get back to the city. I do hate the sticks."</p>
<p>"How can we help you, sir?" Declan's fists were curled up tight in his lap. </p>
<p>"You? Help me?" Greenmantle laughed, long and loud. Ronan's chest burned. "There is nothing you pathetic children could help me with, but I was in town for a business meeting, and I thought I'd pop in and see my favourite little Lynch orphans." He smiled the same cold grin he'd had on the day of the funeral. "Where's the smallest Lynch?" Before either of them could respond, he laughed. "I mean obviously I know he's at tennis. Just like I know Ronan sold three sculptures on Saturday, and has a shift in Nino's tonight, and that you are on another overnight at the factory."</p>
<p>"We know you're in control here," Declan said quietly, face expressionless. "We know we're only alive because you allow it, sir."</p>
<p>Ronan hated hearing him so beaten and meek. There was nothing he could do though; his father had tied the ropes around their necks when he decided to steal money from Colin Greenmantle. Now all they could do was respond when he pulled and hope he didn't decide that today would be the day he hung them. </p>
<p>Greenmantle smiled that awful grin again. "Good. Your struggles to survive are like my very own real life soap opera. I do so delight in getting the reports on you."</p>
<p>Ronan swallowed down the choking fear crawling up his throat. He put his hands on his lap to hide the trembling. </p>
<p>Greenmantle's smile brightened like he knew exactly what he was doing to them. "And you must have seen how thrilled I was when you provided me with your own little twist this week."</p>
<p>Neither brother spoke. </p>
<p>"Three days late with my payment and me the fool who's been kind enough to allow you to work off your father's debt." </p>
<p>Declan swallowed audibly. "Sir, I apologise. We had some issues with the bank. I made sure to transfer you the money as soon as I had it." </p>
<p>"I believe I gave you a list of priorities after the funeral." He stared at Ronan. "What was it?"</p>
<p>"The first thing we pay is our debt to you," Ronan answered, fear and anger making his voice hollow. "Everything else comes second."</p>
<p>"Oh, so you do remember," he said coldly. "Why does Matthew have a new laptop when I do not have my money?"</p>
<p>"It was a mistake." Rage burned Ronan's lungs to ash. "We thought we had enough and then there were bank charges." </p>
<p>Greenmantle laughed unkindly. "What a small thing to cost you so much. I'm adding another thousand onto the amount. Lateness will not be forgiven a second time." </p>
<p>"Yes, sir," Declan said and Ronan echoed. "It won't happen again."</p>
<p>Greenmantle examined them for long, stretching seconds before nodding. "See that it doesn't." He grinned but the shape was pure cruelty. "Well, as much as I enjoy these little visits, this jumper is cashmere, and just being in this dump you call a home is ruining it."</p>
<p>Declan nodded but didn't manage to say anything despite his mouth opening. </p>
<p>Ronan looked down at his jumping leg and heard Greenmantle stroll across the room.</p>
<p>The click of the door closing was like a gunshot in the silence. </p>
<p>Declan let out a loud breath. "Fuck. You okay?" </p>
<p>"Are you?" Ronan shot back, examining Declan's pale face. </p>
<p>He shrugged. "Nothing like bone chilling terror to wake me up before a shift. He was just sitting there when I walked out of my bedroom. Creepy fuck."</p>
<p>Ronan tried to laugh but a choked sound was all he managed. "I hate when he does that."</p>
<p>"Me too. It's like he knows every time we get comfortable."</p>
<p>"Well, apparently he fucking does." Ronan stood, chaotic energy bouncing through his limbs. "How much does that put us up to?" </p>
<p>"Ninety six thousand." </p>
<p>"Fuck." </p>
<p>They stayed in caustic silence as they both considered the hole their father had dug for them. </p>
<p>Finally, Ronan said, "I'm going to box. I can't just sit here."</p>
<p>Declan nodded, knowing how hard Ronan tried to stay in control since the murders. The boxing let him get the anger out. </p>
<p>"I did the shopping," he said when Ronan walked over to the small dresser that held his clothes. "They had an offer on box mac and cheese so I got a lot of them. Also managed some cheap frozen veg. So I'll try make some type of casserole." He said the last word more like a question. </p>
<p>Ronan nodded. "Sure why not? Once it's not fucking ramen noodles."</p>
<p>He laughed. "Yeah I think we all need a break from them. Three weeks straight is more than enough."</p>
<p>Ronan shuffled off his trousers and shrugged on his sweats. "The water bill is paid?" </p>
<p>"And our phone bills and the electric bill." Declan pulled out a box of mac and cheese. He set their mom's casserole dish on the counter carefully. "You did good this weekend, Ro."</p>
<p>"I got lucky this weekend," Ronan said, changing into his boxing top. "Between the sculptures and the two hundred in tips, I was basically a raven boy."</p>
<p>Declan snorted. "A raven boy would never carry so little cash."</p>
<p>Ronan thought of Gansey and his sixty dollars. That and the few conversations he'd had with the boy made Ronan think he was less of a raven boy that he'd originally assumed. </p>
<p>"Probably," he agreed, taping up one hand and walking over to Declan so he could finish taping up the second for him. "I'll be out back if you need me." </p>
<p>He picked up his dad's old mp3 and headed out back. The only reason the damn thing hadn't been pawned with all their other stuff was because no one used mp3's anymore. </p>
<p>Ronan's boxing bag hung from an old metal rod that stuck out from the side of the house like a rusty tooth. He carefully untied the black sack protecting it from the weather and swung it between his hands for a few silent minutes. He tucked the earphones into his ears and chose the heaviest EDM playlist he had. He turned it up until it blared, and started warming up slowly, letting the music and the building burn in his hands and arms erase the shame he'd felt at Adam's rejection, at Greenmantle's sneer, at being broke and hungry while surrounded by the richest boys in America, at the roiling pit of want and anger festering in his stomach. </p>
<p>He boxed until he couldn't feel his arms and his tears were indistinguishable from his sweat. He cooled down with some push ups and stretches and went in to shower. The house smelled like warm cheese and spices. Matthew was at the kitchen table doing homework. Declan was laughing at something he'd said, and Matthew had the small, proud smile he wore when he made either of them laugh. </p>
<p>"Man, you stink," Matthew laughed when he saw him. "Go shower. Dec put the hot water on."</p>
<p>Ronan raised his eyebrow at the luxury of a hot shower. </p>
<p>"You deserve it this week," Declan shrugged. "Hurry up and we can have dinner together."</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Nino's was empty. </p>
<p>Ronan sat at the counter, refilling the ketchup bottles and practicing Latin verbs in his head. When the door opened, he glanced up and frowned. Joseph Kavinsky stood, watching him. </p>
<p>"Jesus Mary, today is the day for fucking assholes." K quirked an eyebrow but Ronan didn't bother explaining. "What do you want?" He asked instead. </p>
<p>Kavinsky shrugged. "Haven't seen you recently. You know I'll let you drive my car again if you apologise."</p>
<p>For a moment, Ronan was behind the wheel of the Mitsubishi, leather gripped in his hands as he sped down a pitch black road with Kavinsky laughing beside him. He could taste the cheap beer on his tongue and feel the air blasting in from the open windows. </p>
<p>"I don't race anymore." Not since he'd been arrested, and blown their rent money on a fine, and almost lost them all the Aglionby scholarship. "I haven't in months."</p>
<p>Kavinsky examined him, stealing parts that Ronan didn't want to give. "Heard you and Adam Parrish were getting friendly."</p>
<p>Tension pulled Ronan's shoulder taut. He didn't reply. Just went back to refilling the bright red plastic bottle. </p>
<p>Kavinsky walked across the empty restaurant and slammed his hand on the counter by Ronan's arm. "Don't just ignore me," he hissed. "You're not better than me."</p>
<p>Very slowly, Ronan glanced up and stared at him. "Is there a reason you're talking to me now, or do me and my brother need to pay you another visit?"</p>
<p>Kavinsky flinched, but still, he snarled, "Without your brother, you wouldn't be able to touch me, and one day, I'll get you when you're alone." He shrugged. "Or maybe little Matthew might want a go in my nice car instead of that shitty thing you drive. Now, tell me what's going on between you and Parrish."</p>
<p>Ronan twisted on the lid of the bottle, slowly, slowly, tightening it, before he finally caught Kavinsky's eye and held it. "I don't know Adam Parrish. I've spoken to him a total of two times. I don't know what you want with him, and I don't care, but don't get me or mine involved." </p>
<p>He stood then, casually, letting Kavinsky see how much bigger than him Ronan was. "I could kick your ass with one hand tied behind my back, asshole," he hissed. "I know you think you're big shit, but if you talk to me or my brothers again, I'll show you what I can do without Declan." He kept his voice calm like his dad had taught him and his face placid like Declan had. "Now, fuck right off. I'm working."</p>
<p>Kavinsky snarled an insult, but turned and walked away, slamming the door behind him. </p>
<p>There was no one in the restaurant. It was fifteen minutes before closing time; the cooks were washing down the kitchens, his manager was in the office cashing up and Ronan was alone on the floor. Still, it took him a few seconds to catch his breath and calm his thumping pulse. </p>
<p>Kavinsky had been an easy escape after the funerals but before reality set in. He'd allowed Ronan to indulge in his worst needs, let him burn and race and hurt and self-destruct. The first few weeks after the murders, Ronan had let himself get lost in the games Kavinsky played, all the fights he started and Ronan ended. </p>
<p>Declan and him had barely been able to be in the same room together. They'd had to move from their family home, because Greenmantle had allowed them to rent it from him, and he no longer wanted to help the Lynch family. They'd had to sell almost everything they'd owned and replace it with cheaper, but more affordable, furniture. They'd all been drowning but Ronan had an outlet to let his destruction out. </p>
<p>It was only when Declan had picked him up from the police station and sat Ronan down at the kitchen table with a bottle of whiskey and the bills they had, told him about the social worker and the strings attached to the Aglionby scholarship, and the real amount they owned Greenmantle that he'd stopped dragging them all down with him. He still craved it, but he knew now what would happen, what the consequences were, and he'd had to grow up a lot in the last few months.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. in your head, in your head they are fighting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>New chapter!! </p>
<p>Thank you for all your support!! You're all amazing!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ronan was ignoring him. </p>
<p>Adam knew because instead of the usual <i>not looking at him but actually sort of looking at him</i> that Ronan was an expert in, he was actually just <i>not looking</i> at Adam. </p>
<p>The brief moment they'd shared, the barely there understanding, disappeared quicker than Adam had wanted it to. </p>
<p>Adam ignored the pang of loss. </p>
<p>It hadn't meant anything. It hadn't even been anything. Less than a few shared moments. Less than nothing. Like he was. Nothing until he made something of himself. </p>
<p>He tapped his pen against his paper, scribbling down notes and forcibly not checking if Ronan was watching him. </p>
<p>Whelk asked a question and no one responded. He glanced over to their corner, raising an eyebrow when neither of them spoke and then rolled his eyes. "Since our resident smart mouths are not competing for my attention today, let's move on. Your winter semester project will be due in three weeks."</p>
<p>He picked up some sheets from his desk and handed them out. "I've put you in groups of three and I expect a presentation in the last week of the semester. List of topics and groups are here," he stuck a piece of paper to the door. The bell rang. "Now go away."</p>
<p>Adam packed up slowly, waiting until the crowds disappeared before checking who he'd been partnered with. </p>
<p>"Looks like you might have to be seen with me, Parrish." Ronan's eyes searched his face, pausing at where the bruise sat. Adam had covered it with concealer and powder. He'd been doing it for years and no one had ever noticed. Ronan glared and then rolled his eyes. "Fucking sucks, right?" </p>
<p>Adam's hands spasmed, relief that Ronan hadn't mentioned the bruise a hot heat in his chest, and he shoved them into his pockets. "Lynch, about the other day…"</p>
<p>"Don't fucking bother," Ronan snapped. "Oh, look Dick is here too. When do you want to study?" </p>
<p>Gansey grinned, ignoring the tension settling between them. "I'm free any time after school."</p>
<p>"Same," Adam managed. </p>
<p>Ronan snorted. "I work every day from five until close. I've the market on Saturdays and Sundays until three, and then Nino's at five to close. I'm off Sunday afternoons but I have to go something then," he scratched the back of his head but didn't explain further. "So I have about an hour a day I can spare to do this." He bit the leather bracelets around his wrist and shrugged. "When suits?" </p>
<p>Gansey's smile had dimmed while Ronan spoke but he fixed the shape easily. "Adam and I could do the heavy lifting and you could do the editing at the end?" </p>
<p>Ronan glanced between them, and again Adam could read the shame and desperation written across his face, before he buried it down under his nonchalant exterior. "Yeah, sure whatever. Let me know when you want my help."</p>
<p>Adam wanted to say something but he didn't know how to bridge the chasm that he'd opened up between them. </p>
<p>Instead, he smiled at Gansey. "Would today suit to start working on this?" </p>
<p>"Come to Monmouth. It's where I live," he said in response to Adam's raised eyebrow. "I'll text you my address."</p>
<p>"Sounds good."</p>
<p>*** </p>
<p>Monmouth was nothing like anything Adam had ever seen. Tall walls of windows stretched above him. Streams of weak sunlight illuminated the desk, and fell off the bed sitting in the middle of the room, forming a puddle on the old wooden floor. Books were piled everywhere; on the desk, by the door, leaning against the windows and falling over by the bed. A miniature version of Henrietta lined the centre of the room and Gansey led him down the miniature main street to the desk. </p>
<p>Gansey threw himself on the bed and pointed at the sleek leather chair for Adam to sit on. He pulled out Whelk's list of topics from his bag. </p>
<p>"So I was thinking we could do the translation with historical sources? What do you know about Welsh kings?" </p>
<p>Adam shrugged. "Not a lot. Glendower and the rebellion, I guess, but not much."</p>
<p>Gansey's bright smile could have lit up a room. "Exactly. I have this book." He rooted through a pile, knocking half of them over as he did. "The sheet says we need to translate at least five readings of a thousand words each on the same topic and then create a presentation on it." Gansey glanced up from where he was flicking through the book and Adam nodded. "Great, so we could start with this book? I mean it's only four chapters long. After, we could bulk it up with a few more readings?"</p>
<p>Adam nodded. "That sounds good. Do you know much about Glendower?"</p>
<p>"So much," Gansey laughed. "My family refer to him as my boyfriend because I've been studying him for a few years. Obsessively," he paused. "So they say."</p>
<p>"I'm more than happy to do the translation on the book if you want to find more readings and start putting together the presentation?" Adam tapped his fingers through on the edge of the cool wood. "Should we update Ronan on what we've decided?" </p>
<p>Gansey nodded and checked his watch. "We could do some work and then call into Nino's for food later?" </p>
<p>"I just need to check with my dad." He pulled out his phone and stood, glancing around. </p>
<p>Gansey pointed at a closed door. "You can go in there. I'll make some coffee."</p>
<p>Grateful, Adam nodded and went into the room. There were more books in here, piled on top of an unmade bed, like Gansey hadn't expected to live alone, but he hadn't made the friends he thought he would. Something about the thought made Adam's gut twinge. He made him think Gansey was as lonely as he was. </p>
<p>The phone rang three times before his dad picked up. "What?" </p>
<p>"I wanted to check if it was okay for me to miss dinner tonight? I'm working on a project with Gansey from school and we were going to go to Nino's after?" </p>
<p>"Richard Gansey the third? His mom is running for senator this year?" </p>
<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
<p>Robert hummed. "Finally you become useful. There's new finance regulations coming up next year and having a friend in the senate would help." </p>
<p>Adam said nothing but his heart was drumbeat across his skin. </p>
<p>"Make sure you and Gansey become friends, Adam. Don't let me down."</p>
<p>"Yes, sir." Adam hated his father so much but he knew better than to deny him a direct request. Whether he wanted to or not, he would become friends with Gansey. "Gansey is close friends with Ronan Lynch," he lied. "I'll have to make friends with him at the same time."</p>
<p>He ignored the tremble of fear at lying to his father, and the spark of excitement at being able to make real friends, ones his father approved of which meant he wouldn't have to hide them, which meant Gansey and Ronan could visit his house, that they could hang out and there would be no punishment. </p>
<p>Robert grunted. "Maybe you'll finally be able to beat him in Latin and stop embarrassing me. Fine. Go to Nino's. It'll be nice for me and your mother to have a dinner without your stupid face anyway." </p>
<p>"Yes, sir. I won't be home late."</p>
<p>"Do what you want. I really don't care." There was the clatter of keys and the shuffling of paper before his father spoke again. "Don't let me down, Adam."</p>
<p>"I won't, sir."</p>
<p>Robert hung up without replying. </p>
<p>Adam let out a shuddering breath, before locking it all back up again, and going back out to Gansey. "Tell me about Glendower."</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Nino's was busy on a Thursday night. </p>
<p>They managed to get the last table by the window. It had four seats but they piled their jackets onto one, pulled out their books, and hoped other raven boys would take the hint. Ronan saw them when they walked in but he wasn't the waiter for their part of the restaurant so they couldn't talk to him straight away. </p>
<p>"What can I get you?" </p>
<p>The girl standing in front of them was short and really pretty. She was dressed in layers of clothes; three tops with rips at different places and a short skirt with dark leggings underneath it. Knee high socks added a pop of bright colour. Her hair was spiked and dyed in a rainbow of pastel colours. </p>
<p>Gansey blinked. "Oh, hey." </p>
<p>"You." She glared at him and then turned away. "Ronan, table for you."</p>
<p>Adam looked between Gansey and the waitress. Gansey was halfway between mortified and unsure, words clearly ready to escape his open mouth. The waitress shot him a warning look and glanced over at where Ronan had paused, taking in the situation. </p>
<p>Ronan delivered the food he was carrying and walked over. "Maggot, it's your section."</p>
<p>"I'm not serving someone who thinks they can buy my time."</p>
<p>Ronan rolled his eyes, glanced over at a red faced Gansey and sighed. "Fine. You owe me."</p>
<p>"Consider it as pie payback, asshole."</p>
<p>"Jesus Mary, of course it is." He rubbed a hand along his buzzcut. "Now go away."</p>
<p>The waitress smirked and whispered something to Ronan. Adam caught <i>elegant</i> and <i>staring</i> before the words were stolen by the chatter of the restaurant. </p>
<p>"Fuck off, Maggot." Pale pink stained his cheeks. </p>
<p>She laughed and went to take the order of another table.</p>
<p>"Alright, what can I get you?" </p>
<p>Adam felt a surge of jealousy at the ease they shared. He looked down at his menu and then back up at Gansey. "Any preferences?"</p>
<p>Gansey shook his head and said, "I need to apologise to her. Ronan, you've got to help me say sorry." </p>
<p>Ronan snorted. "No point now, Dick. Wait until the market this weekend. Come by my stall and I'll make sure she's there."</p>
<p>"Great. You can give me your number and we can plan."</p>
<p>"It's an apology. Not the fucking inquisition."</p>
<p>Gansey folded his napkin carefully. "Yes. Well. I seem to have an awful habit of putting my foot in my mouth where your girlfriend is concerned."</p>
<p>Adam's insides froze at the word and he didn't know why. It made no difference to him if Ronan Lynch had a girlfriend. Not even a tiny bit. </p>
<p>Ronan laughed. "Make sure she doesn't hear you saying that." He reached into the apron wrapped around his waist and retrieved a pen and a notebook. "Now, what can I get you?"</p>
<p>"We'll have large, deep-dish, half sausage, half avocado pizza. Is that okay, Adam?" </p>
<p>Adam shrugged and handed Ronan his menu. "I'll have a coke too if that's okay?" </p>
<p>"Whatever, Parrish. I just work here." </p>
<p>He took Gansey's drink order and left them alone. Adam couldn't help but follow him with his eyes as Ronan walked over to the register to key in the order. Not wanting to be seen staring, he dragged his attention back to Gansey. </p>
<p>"What happened with you and that waitress?" </p>
<p>"Oh, you know, me and my useless words getting me in trouble again. I asked her for coffee, and when she said she was working, I offered to pay her the difference." He hung his head and ran his thumb along his lower lip. "I thought it made sense but she clarified that she was in fact not a sex worker who's time I could buy." </p>
<p>Adam choked. "That's really bad."</p>
<p>Gansey nodded miserably. "I am aware, yes." </p>
<p>Ronan dropped their drinks over before Adam could reply. "Your pizza will be about twenty minutes."</p>
<p>"We figured out the project topic," Adam blurted out, wanting Ronan to stay just a little longer. </p>
<p>Ronan glanced at him and then around the restaurant, clearly checking that no one needed him and leaned on the back of the free chair. "Go on then, enlighten me."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. keep on haunting my heart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Guys, thanks so much for all the support!!! Enjoy the new chapter and happy weekend, I guess, even though time is mostly meaningless now!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ronan finished his shift, sneaking some slices of pizza into his apron for breakfast the next day and cashing up his float. Gansey and Adam were still sitting in the corner, chatting about their project, and Blue shot them daggers whenever she had to sweep by them. They eventually got the message, and left, calling goodbye. Blue left just after them, off half an hour earlier than he was, with a grin and a friendly shoulder punch. Ronan finally finished closing down front of house and waved goodbye to the kitchen staff.  </p>
<p>He was alone as he unlocked his bike, packing his stolen food into his backpack, so he heard the gentle footsteps coming up behind him. </p>
<p>"Hey." Adam stood a few feet away, hands deep in his pocket, and the edges of his bruise just visible under whatever make up he'd used to cover it. "I'm sorry about the other day." </p>
<p>Ronan shrugged. "It was none of my business anyway. Like you said we're not friends."</p>
<p>"We could be," Adam said, voice hesitant. </p>
<p>Ronan froze. </p>
<p>"I just mean Gansey is already half in love with you, and me and him are sort of friends, I guess." Adam's forearms flexed when he tensed them. "I dunno, we could try to be friends if you wanted."</p>
<p>Ronan swallowed back the vitriol crawling up his throat and asked, "Why?"</p>
<p>Adam shrugged. </p>
<p>"That's not an answer." Ronan bit at the bracelets on his wrist. "I gotta get home. My brother is by himself." </p>
<p>"I can give you a lift," Adam said quickly. "We can put your bike in the back." </p>
<p>Ronan was so, so tired and it would take him half an hour to cycle home. It was already half twelve and his body was desperate for sleep. He nodded reluctantly, accepting the offer of the lift if not the offer of friendship. </p>
<p>Adam smiled a tentative shape and took the handlebars from Ronan's hands. "How was your shift?" </p>
<p>"Long." He scrubbed his face, tiredly. "Made forty in tips though so there's that." </p>
<p>Ronan said the words without considering who he was talking to but then he refused to feel shame for working to support his family, for keeping them off the streets. He wouldn't allow anyone to make him feel small. Not a raven boy. Not Adam Parrish. Not anyone. </p>
<p>"Is that good?" Adam paused in front of a <i>goddamn</i> Porsche and opened the trunk. "I hope this fits," he grinned. </p>
<p>Ronan sighed. "It's not great for a Thursday night but something about this month makes people cheap. They're probably saving for Christmas." </p>
<p>Adam nodded, and reaching into the back, he pushed the seats down. He slipped Ronan's bike into the car and slammed the trunk. The noise echoed around the empty car park. He leaned against the car and examined Ronan. </p>
<p>Ronan stuttered under the weight of his gaze. "Ready?"</p>
<p>He nodded and unlocked the car with a beep of the alarm. "Let's go." </p>
<p>Ronan slipped into the soft, leather seat and felt the ache from his feet stretch up his legs and climb into his knees. He closed his eyes and let himself sink into relief of being off his feet. He heard Adam shut his door and switch on the car. The engine was a gentle purr under his feet. </p>
<p>"Just head out of town, take the i-80, and we're the last turn off," he slurred the words a little in his fatigue. "House is just up from that. You'll see my dad's car under a tarp. Can't miss it." </p>
<p>Adam didn't reply but the car started to move. Between the silence and the comfortable seat beneath him, Ronan was asleep before they left the parking lot.  </p>
<p>"Lynch, hey, Lynch." </p>
<p>Ronan jerked awake. "Shit. What the fuck, Parrish?" </p>
<p>Adam sat with his back pressed against his door hands up. "Sorry, man. We're at your house."</p>
<p>Ronan blinked and looked around him, muscles tense and head pounding from the sudden, deep sleep. This far out there were no streetlights and the stars were a low blanket lightening the countryside. He blinked again, and glanced up at his dark house, and then back at Adam. Moonlight made him almost ethereal; his harsh cheekbones and jawline shadowed, his blue eyes like diamonds and all the colour leached from his hair.</p>
<p>Ronan turned away, heat climbing up his face. "Thanks for the lift, man." He dragged his hand over his face. "Sorry for falling asleep."</p>
<p>Adam shrugged. "You must be tired. Seems like you have a packed schedule." </p>
<p>Ronan didn't have an answer to the truth of that. "I better go. I've got to be up early to study." </p>
<p>"I could study with you." Adam said the words so fast, he stumbled over them.</p>
<p>Ronan stared. </p>
<p>"I mean I've got to study anyway. I usually get up at five and do a couple of hours before school. We could do it together?" Adam rubbed the back of his head. "You can help me with my Latin."</p>
<p>Ronan grinned without meaning to. "Fine, Parrish. Where would you like to study at five in the morning?" </p>
<p>"We could go to the library? It opens then." </p>
<p>"It's weird that you know that." Ronan leaned back and closed his eyes again. Tiredness made it hard to think straight, but he knew if he went to the library, he'd have to leave the house at half four and it was already one am. "Why don't you just come here?" It took less than a second for him to regret it but it was too late to take it back. </p>
<p>"I can do that,"Adam said neutrally. Ronan still had his eyes shut but he assumed Adam was looking at the tiny, dilapidated house Ronan lived in. "Do you want me to bring breakfast?" </p>
<p>Ronan shrugged. He had stolen pizza in his bag, enough for him and Declan. Matthew had cereal that they insisted were just for him. There was no spare food for Adam. There was barely spare coffee. </p>
<p>"I'll bring some stuff from the kitchen. We always have too much." </p>
<p>"I better go. I need some sleep." He swung the door open and grabbed his bag. He took a second to maneuver his bike from the trunk. He leaned over the open door. "Night, Parrish. See ya in the morning." </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Ronan stood on the porch, waiting for Adam to arrive. He didn't want to risk him waking up Matthew with his knock. Declan wouldn't be home for another hour. He was wearing two jumpers, a pair of sweats and pj bottoms, and three pairs of socks. The house lost heat in winter like it was impersonating an igloo. </p>
<p>Adam's car hummed up the drive. The engine was so quiet, it barely disturbed the early morning silence. The shitbox's rusty engine would have woken Ronan up every morning if he hadn't been up studying already. He wrapped his arms around his ribs and ignored the thrill of nerves along his skin. </p>
<p>Adam stepped out resplendent in the warm lights of the car. He beeped his keys, and they shut off, leaving him standing in the navy darkness. He waved and strode across the brown grass. Ronan kept leaning against the door jamb until Adam was in front of him.</p>
<p>"Hey," Adam said, voice a whisp on the morning air. "Have you been waiting long?" </p>
<p>Ronan shook his head. "Didn't want us waking Matthew. The house is small so whispers only?"</p>
<p>Adam nodded. "Course." </p>
<p>Unwrapping himself stiffly, Ronan opened the door and let Adam. "Kitchen, sitting room, my bed, bedrooms," he said quickly to get it over with. He didn't look at Adam as he pointed at the table. "We can study there. I can make coffee?"</p>
<p>"Oh, I brought some," Adam said, pulling a flask and a lunch box of what pastries from his bag. "I said I'd bring breakfast."</p>
<p>"Matthew will be thrilled." Ronan smirked and pulled his books towards him. "C'mon, Parrish. You're wasting time." </p>
<p>Adam grinned and grabbed two cups from the kitchen counter. He poured them two cups of rich smelling coffee and pushed one towards Ronan. He opened the lunch box and left it between them. "Gotta fuel, Lynch."</p>
<p>They'd been studying in silence for over an hour when the door opened quietly and Declan shuffled in. "Morning, Ro. Up early as…" He trailed off and stared at Adam. "Oh. Hey." </p>
<p>Adam stood and put out his hand. "Hey, I'm Adam." </p>
<p>"Declan." He shook Adam's hand. "I didn't know Ronan had someone over."</p>
<p>"We're just fucking studying," Ronan replied. "Adam brought pastries. Saved you some. There's pizza on the counter too." </p>
<p>Declan grinned. "Thanks." He grabbed a croissant and stuffed it in his mouth. "I'm starving." </p>
<p>Ronan handed him his coffee. "Taste this."</p>
<p>He swallowed a mouthful and groaned. "Fuck. This is heaven. Adam, you can come over whenever once you bring the coffee."</p>
<p>Adam laughed. "No problem. Nicer here than my house." His face fell when he realised what he had said and he glanced down at his book. </p>
<p>Ronan exchanged a look with Declan over his head, and examined Adam's bruise free face. The make up was perfectly done. "You'll be about tonight?" He asked, filling the uncomfortable silence. "I have a thing I need you to do for me."</p>
<p>Declan nodded. "Sure, man. I'll be about until six." He wiped his hand over his hair and yawned. "I'm dead on my feet. It was nice meeting you Adam. Like I said, you're welcome whenever. Don't even worry about the coffee." </p>
<p>Adam finally looked up from his page and smiled. "Thanks, was nice meeting you too." </p>
<p>When Declan's door was shut, Adam glanced at his page and back up at Ronan. "Will you check this translation for me? I think it's done." </p>
<p>Accepting the change of subject, Ronan nodded and took his page. </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>"Ronan Lynch." </p>
<p>Ronan turned with a smile. "Noah Czerny, finally show your face in the shithole." </p>
<p>Noah laughed and punched him in the shoulder. "Fuck you, fuckface. I was creating a masterpiece that demanded all my attention. Come the art room?" </p>
<p>"I've got world hist and then calculus and then at lunch, I will come to the art room."</p>
<p>"Boo, you whore."</p>
<p>Ronan pushed him. "That reminds me. Stop teaching Matthew Mean Girl quotes. He won't shut up about it. It's fucking annoying." </p>
<p>Noah snorted. "I'll see you at lunch. I'll buy, you just turn up as quick as possible." </p>
<p>Ronan rolled his eyes but nodded. "See ya later, loser." </p>
<p>The art room was empty at lunch. As usual. Ronan threw his bag on the floor by his desk and grabbed his most recent sculpture. He had three ready to go for the market on Saturday and the two ravens left over from last week. He wouldn't have this one finished in time for Saturday but he'd have it for next week. It was in the shape of three books, engraved with Latin titles that opened up into a jewelry box. He grabbed his soldering iron and started joining together two of the joints. </p>
<p>The door slammed open and Noah swanned in, dumping two taco bell bags onto the desk by Ronan's arm. </p>
<p>"Lunch as demanded." </p>
<p>"Have you been to any classes this week?" Ronan asked without looking up from what he was working on. </p>
<p>"Nope. Well, art. Mom had to add a new wing to the library. It was looking a bit empty in the nautical section and headmaster Child's was thrilled." </p>
<p>"How much did that cost her?" </p>
<p>Noah rolled his eyes. "Thirty thousand. But no classes until after Christmas so I'm good." </p>
<p>Ronan huffed out a laugh and tried not to let his jealousy take hold. "Well at least you're already accepted to the college of your dreams. Nothing you do here matters anymore anyway." </p>
<p>"Fucking thank you. To hear my mom talk you'd swear I wasn't going to the most prestigious art school in the country." He rolled his eyes and dragged a stool over to the other side of the table. "Eat your lunch, loser. You're too skinny. K is going to think he can beat you in a fight."</p>
<p>"That fuckhead turned up at Nino's the other night." Ronan stuck the soldering iron into its holder and wiped his hands in some napkins. "Just wanted an apology and then I can drive his car again." </p>
<p>"Fuck that. You can drive mine. It's nicer." Noah smiled around a mouthful of food. "Eat." </p>
<p>Ronan rolled his eyes and took a bite, opening his mouth to show the partially chewed food. "Fucking happy?"</p>
<p>Noah laughed a bright sound. "Gross." </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Declan was waiting when he got home. "So, Adam Parrish?" </p>
<p>"Oh, fuck off." Ronan threw his phone at him. "I need you to make a phone call for me. Adam's mom wants to commission a piece from The Dreamer but <i>not from a child</i>," he mimicked her nasally tones. "So I need you to be The Dreamer and get me the information."</p>
<p>"You sure about this? Lying to Adam's mom while hanging out with him?"</p>
<p>"She paid 400 for the elk. Imagine what we could charge for a commissioned piece? Dec, this could cover rent for three months. It'll cover that extra thousand Greenmantle just shoved on us. We need this." </p>
<p>Declan nodded. "Okay, what do you want me to say?"</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. i replay my footsteps on each stepping stone</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It's my birthday and so you get a bonus birthday chapter with fluff on the side! </p><p>Birthday kudos and comment are appreciated &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Adam sat at his desk and stared at his screen. He had most of the translations for Latin done. He wanted to ask Ronan to study with him again, ask him to look over them even though Adam knew they were right. He stared down at his phone, wishing he had his number to text him. </p><p>"Adam," his mom, Clarissa, called. "Come here."</p><p>With a quiet sigh, he dragged himself to his feet and jogged down the stairs. "Hey, mom."</p><p>"What were you doing?"</p><p>"Studying." He scuffed his toe on the hardwood floor. "Is everything okay?" </p><p>His mom was sitting at the dining room table, papers strewn across the shiny surface. "How many people will you be bringing to your father's party? I'm trying to figure out numbers." </p><p>Adam scratched the back of his head. "How many people do you want me to bring? I'll invite Gansey, I guess. I dunno who else."</p><p>"Don't you have friends?" She sighed like he'd disappointed her. "You'll need them when you go to college, but more importantly, after for the networking opportunities."</p><p>Adam nodded, trying to let her words roll off his skin. He didn't have friends for two reasons; his parents wanting to use him fit their own networking and to hide what his dad did to him. </p><p>"Did you contact The Dreamer?" </p><p>She nodded. "Commissioned a sculpture for the entrance space. He wanted three thousand, but he's a new artist, and I have so many friends in the community, and exposure is worth so much nowadays. I heckled him down to two." She grinned proudly.</p><p>Adam forced a smile but it bit at the edges. They could easily afford the three thousand, and help out a struggling, new artist, and yet his mom refused. </p><p>"It's going to be our old trailer. Not that you'd know anything about that. Spoiled as you are." She glared at Adam like it was his fault they'd moved out of the trailer when he was a toddler. "I need you to give these photos to that stall boy on Saturday. The artist needs them as reference points." </p><p>Adam took the gestured photos and held them gently in his hands. "I can invite some of the rowing team to the party."</p><p>"Invite Tad Carrauthers. His father works in finance as well. It'll be good for your father's business." </p><p>Unease rolled in Adam's stomach. He didn't like Tad since he consistently hit on Adam, and didn't seem to understand that Adam wasn't interested, but still he nodded. "No problem." </p><p>"Okay. Go do your homework. You've got to stay number one in your year. Your father already told me that the Lynch boy is still beating you in latin. It's embarrassing considering how much we're paying for that school. The boy is there on scholarship for lord's sake." She shooed him with a freshly manicured hand. "Don't let your father down." </p><p>Adam nodded, and left, an ache roiling through his stomach. </p><p>***</p><p>The market was empty on the foggy, damp morning. Adam picked up two coffees and some pastries and strolled over to Ronan's stall. Ronan had wrapped his arms around himself, hood up and hands buried in the sleeves. He was shivering and had stuffed his face into the collar of his jumper. </p><p>Adam's heart stuttered at the sight. He pushed it away and took a breath before he said, "Where's your coat?" </p><p>"Winter coats are for rich shits like you." He grinned, vicious and sharp. A shiver wrecked his body, knocking the mean smile off his face, and he shrugged. "We could only afford one. Matthew deserves the best." He nodded at the cup. "That for me?"</p><p>Adam nodded and handed him the coffee. He put the pastries down and unwrapped his scarf. Stepping up slowly, giving Ronan a chance to pull away, he wrapped the scarf around his neck and tucked it into his hoodie. "Stop you getting a cold." </p><p>Ronan tipped his chin into the soft material. "This is a fucking nice scarf, man. I can't keep it." </p><p>Adam shrugged but his stomach swooped at the sight of Ronan in his clothes. "You can give it back to me on Monday. Being a rich shit, I have a few."</p><p>"Fuck you, poor boy." He shook his head but he didn't give the scarf back. "What pastries did you bring me?" </p><p>Adam grinned. "Couple of donuts and some croissants. Thought you'd be hungry." </p><p>"I don't mind that you've decided feeding me is the best way to become friends, because no lie, it absolutely is, but why are you here?" </p><p>Adam rooted through his pockets and pulled out an envelope. </p><p>"Bribe?"</p><p>"Photos," he laughed. "Mom said The Dreamer requested them." </p><p>"Oh, yeah, thanks." He stuffed them into the backpack by his feet. "I'll pass them on."</p><p>"Do you think we could study together again?" Adam blurted. Heat flushed his cheeks. "If you want? I'll bring more of that coffee and pastries."</p><p>Ronan examined him, eyes scanning his face. "Sure, Parrish. You're welcome in mine any time. You don't even have to bring food." </p><p>Adam rubbed the back of his head and stared down at his feet. He knew Ronan had figured some stuff out about what was going on with him but he wasn't ready to confront it yet. Nobody could know. It was the one rule he'd lived his life by and he wasn't ready to break it yet. </p><p>Ronan gestured with his hand. "Give me your phone." When Adam handed it over, Ronan put in his number. "Look, I'm shitty with my phone but I'll check it in the mornings. Just message me if you're coming over to study. I don't have a lot of minutes but we have unlimited texts so fucking whatever." He grabbed a second stool and stuck it beside him. "So, are you sitting or not?"</p><p>Adam smiled and sat down, close enough that their arms touched, and he could feel the heat coming off Ronan. He handed Adam his latin book and they settled into an easy silence.</p><p>An easy hour passed before a scandalised voice asked, "What's he doing here?" </p><p>Adam glanced up from where he was studying Latin and just managed to hide his grimace at the sight of the waitress who hated Gansey glaring at him. "Hey." </p><p>"Maggot, took you long enough?" Ronan asked cheerfully. "Dog walking run over?" </p><p>Adam ignored the surge of jealousy. Of course Ronan was pleased to see his girlfriend. "Hi, I'm Adam. You must be Ronan's girlfriend?"</p><p>Both of them stared at him in shocked silence for a long moment and then Blue burst out laughing. </p><p>"This asshole's girlfriend? As if!" </p><p>Ronan snorted. "Your not exactly my type either, Maggot." </p><p>She shrugged. "My heart bleeds. How will I ever recover from such a blow?" She gripped her chest and stumbled back. "Here, take your pies oh love of mine." </p><p>Adam fought off the blush burning his cheeks. "Sorry, I just thought…" </p><p>"It's fine, poor boy. Don't worry about it." Ronan took the bag Blue was gesturing with him. "Are you sticking around?"</p><p>She shook her head. "I've got to help Calla at the tea stand. Persephone has a PhD meeting with her supervisor. Well, we think she does. You know her, could be anything really." She grinned at Adam. "Nice to meet you officially. I'm sure I'll see you around." </p><p>Adam grinned. "Hopefully." </p><p>He'd kept friendships off limits his whole life, kept everyone at arm's length to keep his secret safe, but he was less than a year from being free of his father, free of that house, and it suddenly seemed vitally important that he found something in Henrietta worth holding on to if only for the next few months. </p><p>"Bye, asshole. I'll see you in work later." </p><p>Ronan scoffed. "Don't remind me." </p><p>She disappeared into the crowd with a short wave. </p><p>"When do you find time to study when you're always working?" </p><p>Adam examined Ronan from the corner of his eye. The other boy was stiff, staring out at the wandering families. He looked wrecked; black bags sat under his eyes and his skin was pale, his oversized hoodie made his frame even smaller and his head was shaved viciously close. </p><p>He shrugged. "Mornings, mostly. Get more done while I work here. Have a couple of hours in the afternoon if I'm not boxing. I don't sleep well ever since…" He trailed off. "I get by." </p><p>"What about college?" </p><p>Ronan laughed. "You're funny, Parrish."</p><p>"You don't want to or you can't afford to?" </p><p>"I don't want to. I barely want to be in fucking high school with those assholes but I gotta stick it out for Matthew." Ronan bit at his leather bracelets. "I want to…" He glanced at Adam and then away. "This." He pointed at his sculptures. He'd already sold three of them since Adam had arrived an hour ago. "This is what I want to do."</p><p>"Sell someone else's art?" </p><p>Ronan snorted and glanced away. "Make my own. Sell that. Let's be honest, I'm not getting out of here. This shithole town is the bear trap around my ankle. At least until me and Declan figure out a way to put Matthew through college." </p><p>"How ya gonna manage that?" </p><p>Ronan shrugged. "We had some savings from my parents' life insurance but that got eaten up with… Anyway, it's gonna now. But if he gets scholarships and financial aid, I dunno, maybe we'll manage it." He stared down at his hands. "Why do you care, Parrish? The Lynch's are trash in this town. Charity cases, every one of us." </p><p>Adam turned in his seat and stared at Ronan until he looked up at him. "Lynch, you're not a charity case and you sure as hell aren't trash. Don't let those assholes make you believe you are."</p><p>Ronan blushed, and glanced away, letting himself get distracted by a customer before he had to respond. </p><p>***</p><p>Adam left Ronan a bit after that, knowing he'd made the other boy uncomfortable, and certain he'd made himself uncomfortable as well. He called Gansey when he reached his car and agreed to call over to work on their presentation. </p><p>Gansey was bright eyed if exhausted looking when he arrived. </p><p>"Have you slept?" Adam asked following him up the stairs to his room. "I've got that book translated so we just need to dig around and find some more translations." </p><p>Gansey smiled. "I haven't slept. I don't always sleep… well." He shrugged, reminding Adam of Ronan. "Anyway, I have most of the presentation done so we can add in your translations and get the last few done and we'll be finished." </p><p>Adam walked down the minature main street and slumped down in the chair. </p><p>He swallowed and said, "My dad's fiftieth birthday is coming up. Mom's throwing a party. Do you want to come?" He forced the words out and then glanced down at his hands. "It'll probably be boring. My mom's making me invite Tad," he rolled his eyes. "Which I know is a negative and also all the finance dudebros, lots of back slapping, and comparing of portfolio sizes." He said portfolio like he meant to say <i>dick</i> because he did want to say that. "But it might be better if you were there," he shrugged. </p><p>"Adam, I'd love to come." Gansey put a mint leaf on his tongue. "Do I need to wear a suit?"</p><p>A bright burst of joy warmed Adam's chest. "Suits, yes. Thanks, man." </p><p>Gansey shrugged. "We'll have fun. I'm an expert on these parties. We'll stick around for a few hours and then find a quiet corner to laugh at everyone." </p><p>"Brilliant. Just gloss up on your stock knowledge. It's all they talk about," he grinned. </p><p>"Do you think we could invite Ronan?" Gansey asked and casually added, "Maybe his friend too?" </p><p>Adam frowned. "I can't see either of them actually wanting to spend any time with those types of people." </p><p>Gansey nodded. "Maybe you're right. I guess I just wouldn't mind spending more time with them both."</p><p>"Ronan and I studied together last week, early. Maybe we could do it here?" </p><p>"Oh yes. You're both always welcome here." Gansey smiled, bright and elastic. "Do you want to see what days suits him?" </p><p>Adam nodded and pulled out his phone. "Sure, man. I'll give him a text."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. and in the bad times, I fear myself</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is the last chapter I have written so we're off the beaten track now. Brand new, unplanned chapters every week. The story could go anywhere now. I don't know where. It doesn't know where. It's never been a story before, it's as confused as me oO</p>
<p>Thank you for all the birthday wishes and the comments and kudos! You guys are the best!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A text jolted Ronan awake on Sunday morning. He jerked on the stool and almost slammed his chin into the table he’d set his sculptures up on. Yawning and wiping his eyes, he pulled his phone from his pocket and grinned when he saw Adam’s name. Usually he only replied to Declan and Matthew, something that had become important after everything, even if he still hated his phone, but something about Adam texting him made him grin. </p>
<p>He was purposely not analysing that reaction. </p>
<p>
  <i>I know we agreed to study tomorrow but I don’t suppose you’re about today?</i>
</p>
<p>The market was usually quieter on a Sunday until after lunch when everyone got bored of sitting in so it was nice to have the distraction. Ronan chewed his bottom lip and stared out at the few wandering people, wrapped up warm against the chill that was currently making Ronan’s bones ache. </p>
<p>He glanced down at his phone when it buzzed again. It was a picture this time. Latin translations and a cup of steaming coffee on a desk covered in paper. Ronan peeled off a piece of dry skin from his lip. He knew he should say no, knew the closer he got to Adam the harder it would be to lie about the Dreamer and who he was, but he also wanted to see him. </p>
<p>Ronan had his scarf wrapped around his throat. </p>
<p>It still smelled like Adam. </p>
<p>
  <i>Sure, I’m about. Going to the junkyard after the market. Meet you at mine at three.</i>
</p>
<p>When Adam didn’t reply straight away, he stuck his phone back into his pocket and started working on the translations that Adam and Gansey had given him.  Lost in thought, he jolted when a cup of coffee was placed by his notebook. He glanced up to see Gansey smiling, small and unsure. </p>
<p>"I also brought pastries.” He ran his thumb over his lower lip. “Adam suggested it. He said you liked free food."</p>
<p>Ronan snorted. "I'll take your bribe but you don't have to do it again. You don't need to buy my friendship." </p>
<p>A pink stain coloured Gansey's skin. “I really didn't mean it like that. If it looks that way." </p>
<p>"Don't worry about it, man. Give me my pastries." Ronan ripped into a croissant and grinned. "So, you're here to apologise?" </p>
<p>"I'm going to try.” He stood over Ronan, tall and regal with broad shoulders and perfect posture, and yet, he managed to convey a great level of insecurity. “What do you think I should say to her?" </p>
<p>"To who?" Asked a sly voice behind them. </p>
<p>Gansey tensed, wide eyes staring at Ronan. </p>
<p>Ronan smirked. "Off you go, man. Time to shine." </p>
<p>"Blue," Gansey said brightly, turning with the energy of a man going to his death. "I want to apologise to you for last weekend. It was rude and inconsiderate and I didn't mean it to come across that way." </p>
<p>Blue raised one eyebrow. "Little less formal there, President Cell Phone, I'm just a poor waitress."</p>
<p>"I never meant to…"</p>
<p>Blue rolled her eyes and Ronan’s anger flared to life. </p>
<p>"Blue, ease up," he snapped. "He's apologising." </p>
<p>"Fine. Fine." She rolled her eyes and grinned, holding out her hand. "Shake on it and we're good." </p>
<p>Gansey grasped her hand and shook it vigorously. </p>
<p>Blue pointed at Ronan. "And you don't talk to me like that, Snake." </p>
<p>Ronan hissed and laughed. "Only Calla is allowed to call me that, maggot."</p>
<p>"Whatever, asshole." </p>
<p>She slammed down in the seat beside him and grinned up at Gansey. "So what ya doing here?" </p>
<p>"I brought Ronan breakfast, and wanted to apologise to you, and now I've done that I should probably go." </p>
<p>Ronan saw the slump of his shoulders and sighed. "We're going hunting for scrap metal later with Noah, and maybe Adam, if you want to come?” Ronan ignored how Blue had turned to him and stared when he mentioned Adam coming. “It's for The Dreamer."</p>
<p>"We don't work on Sundays," Blue watched him for another second, and turned back to Gansey. "Stupid state laws."</p>
<p>Ronan laughed. "Fucking assholes stopping the exploitation of children."</p>
<p>Blue snorted. </p>
<p>Gansey gazed between them with a small smile curling his lips. "I'd love to come hunting scrap metal with you."</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Gansey’s camaro followed them back to Ronan’s house where Noah was waiting beside his red mustang. Grey clouds and misting rain made the house look more pathetic than usual; the peeling paint on the door and window sills, the dead flowers and the cracked glass in the front window that was boarded up with a plank of wood. The tarp over his dad’s car sagged under dirty puddle water. Noah was a bright pop of colour against the dull grey of Ronan’s life.  </p>
<p>Adam had not replied to his message and he wasn’t at the house. </p>
<p>Ronan ignored the fear curdling in his gut. </p>
<p>He parked in the driveway and pulled down the sleeves of his hoodie. Blue watched him for a long moment.</p>
<p>“Surrounded by all these raven boys and no idea what to do.”</p>
<p>“Whatever.” </p>
<p>“Who owns the scarf?”</p>
<p>Ronan shrugged. “Seen you looking at Gansey.” </p>
<p>“Low blow, asshole.” </p>
<p>“You started it, maggot.”</p>
<p>Noah knocked on Blue’s window, impatiently. “Blue, light of my life, favourite person in the whole world, come out and hug me,” he said through the glass. </p>
<p>Laughing, Blue got out of the car and let Noah wrap her in a giant hug. Supporting her with one hand, he rooted in his pocket and tossed his keys at Ronan when he stepped from the shitbox. </p>
<p>“Told you I’d let you drive.” He placed Blue back down, checking she was steady with exaggerated care. “Blue, I’m so glad you’re here. I missed you.” </p>
<p>Blue allowed Noah to pet her hair with a patience she showed no other raven boy. Ronan couldn’t help but notice that Gansey watched them with a wistful gaze, and he glanced away to hide his smirk. </p>
<p>Matthew appeared at the door and strolled over with jaunty steps. “Hey, pal! How was the market?”</p>
<p>“Long boring. Have you eaten?”</p>
<p>“Ate the pizza you left and some of the casserole. I am <i>always</i> hungry.”</p>
<p>“You’re a growing boy.” Ronan laughed but fear gnawed at his gut that he was failing his brother. </p>
<p>Matthew grinned, “I’m probably going to be bigger than you and Dec.” He glanced over to where Noah, Gansey and Blue were sitting on the hood of the mustang chatting. “Are you going looking for supplies?”</p>
<p>Ronan nodded, distracted by how Noah was trying to show Gansey a complicated handshake while Blue tried to hide her laughter. </p>
<p>“I was thinking of going to Nino’s tonight.”</p>
<p>“With who?” Ronan asked, still distracted by the easy way the others laughed. He always felt like he was dragging each smile out of the mud and shining it before he could show it to the world. Laughing felt like a language he used to be fluent in but now had a hard time deciphering. “You’ll need a lift there and back.”</p>
<p>“Well, and I know you won’t like this,” Matthew raised his hands as if that would stop Ronan from reacting to whatever he was about to say. “But Joseph Kavinsky offered to pick me up. He even offered to pay for the pizza.”</p>
<p>Ronan’s spine hardened, his shoulders tensed. “Why the fuck are you speaking to Joseph fucking Kavinsky?” </p>
<p>Matthew seemed to wilt under Ronan’s harsh gaze, and a jolt of guilt made Ronan’s hands shake. </p>
<p>“What was the one rule we gave you?” He tried to make the words softer but they still came out as sharp as blades. “The one fucking rule?” </p>
<p>Matthew stared down at his falling apart runners. “Stay away from Kavinsky,” he whispered</p>
<p>Ronan nodded sharply, aware the others had stopped talking and were quietly listening. “Why was he talking to you?”</p>
<p>“He comes and watches me play tennis sometimes. Talks to me afterwards.” Matthew shrugged, helpless and innocent. “I know you and Dec don’t like him because of the drugs thing but he apologised, and said he didn’t realise it was such a big deal, and it won’t happen again.”</p>
<p>Ronan tried to calm the anger pumping beneath his skin, but there was too much, and he couldn’t breath. He walked away from Matthew before he said something that would hurt his little brother, and went straight to the side of his house where he ripped the cover off his boxing bag. He furiously pounded the bag, not caring when his skin split, not caring how his heart roared in his ears. He only cared about this moment, this rage, this burning that would surely be the end of him.</p>
<p>Surprisingly, it was Gansey who stopped him.</p>
<p>“Ronan Lynch,” he said in a voice so certain and so sure, Ronan couldn’t help but listen. “Stop. Go say goodbye to your brother. And then we’re leaving.”</p>
<p>Ronan stared at him for a long moment, his ragged breathing the only noise between them before he nodded curtly and stormed back over to Matthew.</p>
<p>“Your hands are bleeding,” Matthew said in a whisper. The misting rain had made his blonde girls limp noodles on his forehead. “I’m sorry, pal. I didn’t mean to upset you.”</p>
<p>Ronan took a shaky breath, his chest felt too tight. “What’s the one rule we have, Matthew?”</p>
<p>Matthew blinked rain from his eyes. “Stay away from Kavinsky.”</p>
<p>Ronan nodded, picking the loose skin from his knuckles. “Don’t be fooled by him. He’s a prick who’s fucking with you to get to me, okay?”</p>
<p>Noah snorted. “Looks like he’s succeeding. Here,” he’d pulled a first aid kid from his trunk and gestured with an antiseptic wipe. “Let me clean them.”</p>
<p>Matthew looked so heartbroken staring down at Ronan’s freely bleeding knuckles that Ronan said, “Do you want to come with us?”</p>
<p>He shook his head. “I’m okay. I’ll just hang out here until Dec wakes up. Try to make dinner.”</p>
<p>“Matt…”</p>
<p>Matthew just shook his head and waved defeatedly before heading back into the house. </p>
<p>Ronan watched him go, guilt a heavy weight. He winced when Noah dragged the wipe across his skin. </p>
<p>“Well, you fucked that right up.” Blue leaned against the camaro with Gansey by her side. They made a striking pair; Blue in brightly ripped dresses and two pairs of thigh high socks and Gansey in a turquoise polo and shorts despite the freezing weather. “How are you gonna fix it?”</p>
<p>“Dec will wake up and sort it.” Ronan said nonchalantly but all the good had gone out of the day. Noah bandaged his hands. “Matthew bounces back quicker that any of us.” He managed to smirk when Noah placed a kiss on each hand. </p>
<p>“All better,” Noah said. “Let’s get to the junkyard before the rich treasure hunters get all the good stuff.” </p>
<p>He took Noah’s key out, ignoring his still silent phone, and waved at them to hurry. “Let’s fucking go.”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>“So, this is for the Dreamer?” Gansey asked as they pulled into the carpark of the junkyard. </p>
<p>It was less a car park and more a dirt square, packed with rusting and aging cars. The <i>Marley’s Junkyard</i> sign swung in the cold breeze, creaking in a way that reminded Ronan’s of the start of every horror movie ever. He’d managed to pull back some of his good form while driving the mustang, taking corners too sharply and listening to Noah hoot beside him when he floored it. </p>
<p>Ignoring Gansey’s question, he stomped across the puddle ridden mud soaked car park and paused at the entrance, pulling free a trolley and pushing it towards Blue. She gripped the handle with a savage grin. It was a long running joke that since she was a girl she couldn’t possibly get her fingers dirty picking up junk so she took care of the trolley. </p>
<p>It had been started the first time they’d come here and some sexist asshole had moaned to Ronan about the uselessness of women in places like the junkyard. </p>
<p>Ronan had not bothered to reply and Blue had ripped him a new one. </p>
<p>Still, she now refused to dig into the piles of metal, claiming it would ruin her nails or her outfit or her shoes. </p>
<p>“C’mon, children,” Ronan growled, tired and angry and still burning with adrenaline. “You’re all slow as fuck.”</p>
<p>Noah glanced between Gansey and Ronan before strolling over to him. “So who else doesn't know who the Dreamer is?”</p>
<p>Ronan glared. “Adam, his mother since she refuses to have art made by a child. Gansey. Try to keep your fucking mouth shut.”</p>
<p>“You know how I love a secret.” He skipped alone beside Ronan, splashing mud and water up on his black jeans. “What are we looking for today?”</p>
<p>“Sheets of dark metal,” Ronan said, glancing around at the piles of trash around them and wondering how Gansey was going to react to having to dig through it all. “And stop fucking splashing me or I’m going to hit you.”</p>
<p>“Can’t. Already hurt your hand.” Noah grinned but then his face turned serious. “Fuck, K. He’s not getting close to your family, okay?”</p>
<p>Ronan nodded but he wasn’t sure how much he believed Noah.  He turned around when Blue called, rolling his eyes when he saw Gansey holding up a flat piece of darkened metal which was exactly what he was looking for. Of course Gansey would find it on his first try. </p>
<p>He strolled over and took the cold metal from him; it was perfectly square, dark like a bruise and smooth as sanded wood. He nodded, “This is perfect. Is there more?”</p>
<p>Gansey was already loading the pieces into the cart. Five perfectly square pieces that must have come from the same unit. </p>
<p>Gansey ran a thumb over the metal, smudging the shine. “Will this cost much?” </p>
<p>“Not after Blue haggles down the price,” Noah said, back at Blue’s side with a casual arm thrown over her shoulders that Gansey’s eyes tracked. “The man in charge is definitely afraid of her.”</p>
<p>Blue snorted. “More like he wants to get rid of the junk as much as we want to buy it.”</p>
<p>“Let’s get this over with, Maggot. I need to get home.” He needed to tell Declan what had happened so they could figure out how to deal with the Kavinsky situation. “Chop chop, losers.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. i've dreamt about you nearly every night this week</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The support on this fic has been amazing! Thanks so much!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Adam smiled down at Ronan’s text. </p>
<p>He sat at his desk, books and paper lining the surface, but he had all his work done, and all his extra credit work and the thought of spending the day with Ronan made his stomach fizz in a way that was entirely pleasant and entirely foreign. He ran a hand through his hair and unlocked his phone, about to confirm that he’d see him there, already thinking about the food he could bring with him. Maybe a flask of the nice coffee Declan liked. Matthew had asked him to bring more chocolate hazelnut pastries so he would definitely bring some more of them. Ronan really liked danishes so he’d see if the chef had any lying around.  </p>
<p>Having people outside of his house to care about made him feel warm in a way he wasn’t used to. He was starting to understand why teachers had been so insistent he make friends. </p>
<p>“Adam,” Robert’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Come down here, will ya son?”</p>
<p>The politeness in his voice sent every one of Adam’s nerves trembling. </p>
<p>Locking his phone, he pushed himself up and jogged down the stairs. He jolted to a halt on the bottom step when he saw Joseph Kavinsky. A tall, slim man stood beside him dressed in a grey suit. It made Joseph's white vest and ripped jeans even more contrary. The older man was clearly K’s father; they had the same eyes and the same sneer. </p>
<p>Joseph grinned at him, but there was no friendliness in the shape. “Parrish.”</p>
<p>Adam nodded. “Kavinsky.”</p>
<p>“Mr Kavinsky and I have some business so show Joseph your room, will you?” Robert’s voice allowed no refusal. The glare that accompanied it promised violence if Adam didn’t do exactly what he said. “We’ll probably be awhile so get food if you get hungry.”</p>
<p>Adam tilted his head up the stairs. “This way.” </p>
<p>He didn’t bother checking if K had followed, just made his way back to his room and sat down at his desk. His room was always clean, and for once, he was glad he had few personal trinkets. He didn’t need Joseph learning more about him than he already knew. </p>
<p>K came in a second later with the smile still staining his lips. “First time you’ve had a boy in your room, Parrish?” He walked around the space, touching the bed cover with a trailing finger, opening a drawer and closing it. Walking the length of Adam’s two bookshelves. </p>
<p>Adam managed not to roll his eyes at the sneering tone. “First time I’ve had anyone in my room, K. I don’t like people in my space.” The lie was mostly true. Adam didn’t want most raven boys in his rooms. He would have allowed Gansey and Ronan in though. “I don’t like people touching my stuff,” he said pointedly as K examined his books. “What are our dad’s doing together?”</p>
<p>K tipped the side of his nose. “None of your business.”</p>
<p>Something illegal then. “Fine. What do you want to do? I have Latin homework.”</p>
<p>“Don’t be such a fucking loser.” K leaned over Adam, placing his hands on the back of the seat and blocking him in. “There has got to be something worth doing in this mansion. Don’t you have any drugs?”</p>
<p>Adam pulled his chair free, and spun around, putting his back to K. “I have homework to do. Some of us want to go to college. Play with the PlayStation if you want.” </p>
<p>It took a long moment before he heard K slam down into the couch. “You know your dad said you had to entertain me. I wouldn’t want to let slip what a shitty host you’ve been. What do you think your punishment would be? Considering I’m the son of his newest client.”</p>
<p>Adam rolled his eyes but took the warning for what it was. He left the comfort of his desk, his studying, the chance to spend the day with Ronan, and instead switched on his gaming system. “What do you want to play?”</p>
<p>Hours later, and K still hadn’t left.</p>
<p>A spot just above Adam’s left eyebrow wouldn’t stop pounding. K stank of alcohol and smoke, week and sweat. Now Adam’s whole room did too. When he’d opened the window, K had complained of the cold. The room was stuffy and full. Adam wanted to be anywhere else.</p>
<p>Sprawled across Adam’s couch, K watched him with hooded eyes. He’d snuck off to have a smoke. His bloodshot eyes told Adam exactly what he’d been smoking. </p>
<p>“What does Ronan want with you?” Something cruel and bitter twisted K's words. </p>
<p>Empty plates and coke cans littered the floor from the food Adam’s mom had brought up to them. Adam wasn’t stupid enough to think she’d made it herself, but she liked to play homemaker with Robert’s clients. She’d grinned when she’d seen them like it wasn’t their fault Adam had no friends. She’d ruffled his hair and Adam fought not to lean into the contact. </p>
<p>He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been touched with any form of comfort. </p>
<p>“What?” Adam glanced away from the game they were playing. “What are you talking about?”</p>
<p>K shrugged and threw his controller onto the footstool in front of him. “He watches you, you know? In class, in the corridors, in Nino’s.”</p>
<p>“Didn’t know you still went to class,” Adam said, trying not to show the jolt of pleasure at finding out that Ronan watched him.</p>
<p>K sat up suddenly, forcing himself into Adam’s space. “It’s me and him, Adam. Not you and him. Not him and Gansey. Me and him, got it?”</p>
<p>“Does Ronan know this?”</p>
<p>A flicker of rage passed over K expression but he let himself fall back onto the cushions. “It doesn’t matter if he knows it yet. He will in the end.”</p>
<p>Adam wasn’t sure how to reply. His phone burned in his pocket. He wanted to text Ronan, warn him he had this cruel boy's attention, but he kept his hands on the controller. “Ronan can do whatever he likes. If you think you’re going to get to him by isolating him, you have a short fall and a hard landing coming.”</p>
<p>K glared, snapping, “And what do you suggest then?”</p>
<p>Adam shrugged. “I barely know him. We’re doing a project together. Not sharing secrets.” He watched his little car sail off the edge of a cliff on the screen. “Talking to him would get you further than threatening him.”</p>
<p>K snorted. “Show’s what you know. Ronan is all anger and flame. He wants the fight. He wants to burn.”</p>
<p>Adam didn’t bother answering; maybe Ronan did want to burn but Adam was pretty sure he was just as desperate to survive as well.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Midnight and Adam couldn’t sleep. </p>
<p>He rolled onto his side, grabbing his phone from his charger and lay on his back. The message from Ronan sat on his screen. Adam hadn’t replied, had been too exhausted when Kavinsky and his father had finally left after a tense dinner. Adam suffered through Robert and Mr Kavinsky joking about investing and making money illegally with about as much subtlety as a hippo. K had smoked at least two more joints throughout the day and was high as a kite, eating everything in sight and giggling along with his father. Adam’s mom smiled and sipped wine, her eyes becoming unfocused the more she drank. </p>
<p>Adam had sat quietly, glad none of them were bothering to notice him. </p>
<p>Adam stared at the phone so long the light went out, pitching him in darkness again. He blinked the glare out of his eyes and hit unlock. This time, he pressed the call button before he could overthink it. </p>
<p>“Adam?” Ronan’s voice was sharp nails scratching down his back, leaving him shivery. “Are you okay?”</p>
<p>Adam swallowed. “K was in my house today. That's why I never turned up.”</p>
<p>The silence was long but not uncomfortable. He could practically hear Ronan thinking, could feel his raising tension like the heat from a fire. </p>
<p>Before it could peak and Ronan could fall into it, Adam said, “His dad is doing business with my dad.”</p>
<p>Ronan snorted. </p>
<p>“Yeah, I know.” Adam stared up at the almost faded stars above his bed. They’d been hung by one of the staff when he kept having nightmares. Adam had never bothered to take them down. “I had to keep K company. He's pretty focused on you.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, and Matthew too.” There was the rustle of material and the groan of a couch. “I’ll deal with him.”</p>
<p>Adam swallowed. “Were you sleeping?”</p>
<p>Ronan coughed and Adam heard him swallow some water, heard the clink of a glass being put down. “No. I don’t…” </p>
<p>Ronan stopped talking and Adam gave him the time to consider what he was willing to give him. He understood Ronan a little better now, knew he preferred actions over words, and so Adam would never push him to give up more than he was willing to. He could picture Ronan so easily; he'd probably be wearing the soft, navy bottoms Adam had noticed balled up with his bedsheets, and leaning back against the ugly couch, hand over his eyes as he took long breaths, his tattoo clawing its way over his shoulders and up his neck. </p>
<p>Adam wondered if it was weird he could picture the scene so clearly, could imagine how the only light would be a strip of moonlight illuminating Ronan in white, making his pale skin almost ghostly in dark. Adam wondered if he’d be topless and then pushed the thought aside. The Lynch's house was much too cold for anything but layers. Ronan would be wearing the long sleeved black top he always had on when Adam came to study with him, thick socks on his feet and probably his overlarge hoody too. He’d have the hood up and it would cast shadows over his face, making him seem unworldly and untouchable like the boy he had always been until only a few weeks ago. </p>
<p>Ronan coughed again. “I don’t sleep very often and when I do it’s mostly nightmares. Sometimes I avoid it.” He cursed under his breath. “Dunno why I told you that.”</p>
<p>“I know nightmares,” Adam admitted. “I understand not wanting to sleep. Dunno how you manage it though when you work as hard as you do.”</p>
<p>“I’ll sleep when I’m dead, Parrish.”</p>
<p>Adam hummed. “Are you still okay with studying in the morning?”</p>
<p>“Bring your magic coffee and I think I’ll be good.” They were quiet for a few moments and then Ronan said, “Goodnight, Adam.”</p>
<p>Adam’s heart skipped a beat at the use of his name. “Night, Ronan.”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Ronan was sniffling when he let Adam into the house the next morning. He was dressed exactly how Adam had pictured except for the heavy boots he’d shoved his feet in while waiting for Adam. </p>
<p>“You don’t have to wait for me outside, you know? I know to be quiet.”</p>
<p>Ronan shrugged. “I don’t mind.”</p>
<p>“You sound like you’ve been gargling rocks.”</p>
<p>“Thanks, man. It’s my rock star voice.” Ronan’s voice lowered as they walked into his house. It felt as cold as the chill morning air. “Why do you have so much stuff?”</p>
<p>“Matthew requested hot chocolate and you and Dec wanted coffee. I brought some of the pastries and we had leftover lasagna from last night that would’ve been thrown out today since my mom refuses to eat the same meal two days in a row so I figured you guys might appreciate it.” He emptied his spare bag as he spoke, lining the empty fridge with half a tray of lasagna, vegetables, salad and garlic bread. He didn’t give Ronan the chance to react. Just shut the fridge and kept talking. “Gansey texted to say he didn’t sleep well last night so he’d have to miss this morning. He said he’d try to make it on Wednesday.”</p>
<p>Ronan was still eyeing him suspiciously but a hacking cough made him forget it as he leaned over the counter, one arm wrapped around his rips and the other over his mouth. He held up his finger when it looked like Adam was going to say something, and slumped into his chair after. “Latin?”</p>
<p>Adam nodded but couldn’t help but notice how pale Ronan looked, chapped lips almost bloody and bruise like bags under his eyes. “Are you sick?”</p>
<p>Ronan glared at him. “I don’t get sick.”</p>
<p>Adam nodded and set out the other food he had brought and the coffee, glancing down at his books. Ronan coughed into his elbow every few minutes and Adam couldn’t help watching him. The black bags made his blue eyes luminous. He’d shaved his head since the last time Adam had seen him and he wanted to run his fingers over Ronan’s scalp and feel the bite against them. Sharp cheekbones and a vicious jaw warned people <i>this animal bites</i> but the hollow of his collarbones added a vulnerability that made Adam want to protect him. </p>
<p>“You’re staring, man,” Ronan said without looking up from his work.  </p>
<p>Adam shrugged. “How was yesterday?”</p>
<p>“Found the stuff the Dreamers needs for your mom’s piece. Gansey apologised to Blue and I think they’ve started some sort of weird courting process.” The words sounded like they were scraping up his throat. He swallowed half his coffee. “He’s calling her Jane and she’s calling him President Cellphone. Noah let me drive.” Ronan finally glanced up from his essay. “It was a day off. Whatever like.”</p>
<p>“Wish I could have been then,” Adam said and then felt stupid for revealing it. “Better than K, anyway.”</p>
<p>“Anything is better than that jackass.” </p>
<p>Neither said anything for a few minutes and the only noise was the scratching of their pens. </p>
<p>Ronan wheezed and coughed again, blowing his nose and pulling his sleeves down over his hands. “It’s freezing in here, right?”</p>
<p>Adam leaned over and put the back of his hand to Ronan’s forehead. “You’re burning up.”</p>
<p>“No, Parrish, I’m not because I can’t get sick.” He shook Adam’s hand off and wrapped his hands around the cup. “I’m fine. I just need to drink some coffee and power through. It’ll be okay.”</p>
<p>Adam heard the desperation in his tone and nodded, “Yeah, Lynch, it’ll be okay.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. leave your mark in fire on the ground you've left behind</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Happy Friday, y'all!! Welcome to the weekend, I hope vaccines are a thing that is happening to you or your family soon! My dad got his this week and the relief! </p><p>Stay safe, wear a mask, etc....</p><p>As always, thank you for your support! You're all very kind and I appreciate it!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ronan felt like his head was going to explode. </p><p>He laid it down on the cool table and wheezed out a harsh breath. He could feel Adam staring but he didn’t have the energy to tell him to stop. The front door opened and a blast of cold air made Ronan shiver violently. He turned his head and glanced at Declan. </p><p>He looked as pale as Ronan felt. </p><p>“You too?”</p><p>Dec coughed and nodded. “I was told not to come back until I was clear of symptoms for forty eight hours.”</p><p>“Fuck. Dec,” Ronan paused to cough. “Fuck.”</p><p>Declan nodded. “They can’t risk it spreading through the rest of the factory. We all work too closely together. Apparently a flu last year took out half the workers and they lost a bunch of money so new policy.” He slumped down on the kitchen counter and stared down at his hands. “I’m gonna lose at least a week to this.”</p><p>Ronan’s pulse was a drumbeat in his temples. “Me too,” he admitted. “I have to go to school but Nino’s won’t let me work. They've gotten stricter after the health inspector bullshit.” </p><p>Declan nodded. “Do we still have mom’s thermometer?”</p><p>“Check the Cupboard.” </p><p>The Cupboard was a side press that was too skinny to hold any dishes or food. They’d filled up one shelf with bills and payslips, anything they’d need to file their taxes. The bottom shelf held everything that had no normal place in the house; keyrings, spare keys, thermometers, a pink USB stick, random chargers, broken phones, hotel sewing kits and broken pens. </p><p>Adam glanced between them before standing and grabbing a cup. He poured out some hot chocolate and placed it on the counter beside Declan. “There’s food in the fridge too. It might help you feel a bit better.” He put a pastry beside the cup too, sitting before Declan even removed his head from the Cupboard. </p><p>Declan grinned in triumph when he pulled his head out. “Oh thanks, Adam,” he managed before breaking into a hacking cough that hurt to watch. He took a sip of the drink and stuck the thermometer under his tongue. “Ro, get dressed for school. Is there hot water? It might help.”</p><p>Ronan had buried his head back into his arms because the light was hurting his eyes. He shook it very gently. “No hot water, man.” He couldn’t even feel shame for Adam seeing them at their worst. He was just <i>so</i> tired. “Do you want me to put it on for you?”</p><p>“Nah, I’m gonna try to sleep it off.” The thermometer made his words mumbled. It beeped and it took it out. “100.4. That’s probably not good.”</p><p>“No, that’s not good." Adam huffed. "Have you got any Tylenol or something to take the temperature down?”</p><p>Ronan snorted. “Sure, we’ve a fully stocked medicine cabinet. Wash that and let me try.” When it beeped, Ronan almost laughed. “100.7. Beat ya.”</p><p>Declan glanced up from where he had his head rested in his hands. “You can’t go to school with a fever.”</p><p>“Can’t miss school without a doctor's note. Can’t afford a doctor so I’m going to school.” He tried to stand and his legs went from under him. “I’ll get up in a second.”</p><p>Adam glanced between two of them and stood abruptly. “I’m gonna go home and grab you some medicine. Do not try to get to school without me. I’m driving you.”</p><p>Ronan waved him away, too dizzy to argue.</p><p>“How the fuck did we get this sick?” Declan asked when the door shut behind Adam.</p><p>Ronan shrugged and pointed to the broken window, to the door that let draught in despite the duct tape holding it together, and the drip of water into the bucket in the corner. “Oh, I dunno how we fucking got sick living in such a fucking palace.”</p><p>Declan snorted. “I feel like puking.”</p><p>“That’s probably because your brain is on fire.”</p><p>“What are we going to do, Ro?” Declan fell into the seat beside him and wrapped his arms around his waist. “We can’t pay Greenmantle and make rent if we both miss work.”</p><p>Ronan blinked twice and took a long drag of coffee, trying to switch his brain back on. “How short will we be?”</p><p>Dec groaned and dropped his head back into his hands. “So, we’ll probably get about a thousand from you and maybe two hundred in tips. So that’ll cover Greenmantle and some food. After bills, we’ll have about five hundred left of my money.”</p><p>“Rent is eighteen hundred.”</p><p>Declan didn’t say anything. </p><p>“We’re short thirteen hundred. Fuck." Ronan rolled his head to the side and wondered, not for the first time, why they were paying so much for the shithole they lived in. He didn't know how but he knew it was the fucking raven boys fault. "And that’s if we’re both better before the end of the week and can go back to normal next week.” Ronan rolled his forehead along the cool wood of the kitchen table. “I’ll have to miss the market this week if I want to get better. We’re gonna have to sell it.”</p><p>“Ro.”</p><p>He shrugged. “Stupid to hang onto it for this long anyway. It’s just sitting in the garden.”</p><p>“Ronan.”</p><p>“No, Dec. I was being selfish.” The words were glass, tearing up his throat and leaving his teeth bloody. “With a quick sale, we could get like five grand for it.”</p><p>“It’s worth twice that.”</p><p>Ronan didn’t say it was priceless, that it was all he had left of his father, all he had left of their old life, of days spent driving when he was too young, with his father laughing that boisterous noise and telling him <i>not to tell his mother</i>. “Quick sale. It’ll be fine. We’ll hide the money from Greenmantle. Give us a safety net if something like this happens again.”</p><p>Declan didn’t reply and they sat in silence until the sweeping light of the Porsche illuminated the bare living space. The porch creaked and Adam let himself in, weighed down with a bulging tote bay. If he noticed the tense silence when he came back in, Adam didn’t say anything. The bag full of medicine; shit Ronan would never have been able to afford. </p><p>“Okay, this will keep you going for the week, I think.” He handed them two tablets each. "Swallow these and then take a spoonful of this.” </p><p>The cough medicine tasted like sickly sweet strawberry, artificial and stinging. “I’m gonna get dressed. Dec, wake Matthew. He needs to be up.” </p><p>***</p><p>School was hell. </p><p>Ronan could only laugh at the irony that what he thought was hell was nothing like the actual suffering of walking the halls with a fucking migraine and a fucking fever. He couldn’t stop his hands from shaking, his ribs ached from coughing and his throat was a battle scene. The skin around his nose had turned a harsh red from blowing it and he looked like fucking Rudolph with it glowing from his pale face. </p><p>He’d sweated through his shirt but he couldn’t get warm. </p><p>They wouldn’t let him leave his hoodie on so he had the sleeves of his jumper down over his hands and his face tucked into Parrish’s scarf because for some reason that was okay. Probably because it was basically a mask protecting the rest of them from his germs. </p><p>Adam froze when he saw him in Latin. “Jesus, Lynch. You need to go home.” He put his hand to Ronan’s forehead, skin as cool as ice and Ronan leaned into the touch. Adam must have noticed because he put his other hand on his cheek. </p><p>Ronan shivered and Adam took back his hands. He pushed away the flare of disappointment. “I’m fine.”</p><p>“You sound like shit.”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>This lack of argument seemed to confuse Adam more than anything. He sat down and rooted through Ronan’s bag. “Did you take your medicine?”</p><p>Ronan shook his head, watching the other boys stream in, catch sight of him and try to sit as far away as possible. At least feeling like horse shit meant he finally had some space. </p><p>“Ronan," Gansey said, eyes wide. "You look terrible.”</p><p>“Thanks, Dick.”</p><p>Gansey glanced between Adam and Ronan, confused. “Can’t you go home?”</p><p>“Can’t be sick without a doctors note.”</p><p>Gansey's forehead crumpled like an unwanted receipt, but before he can talk and say something monumentally stupid like <i>why not go to the doctor then</i> like it was just that easy, Adam handed Ronan the cough bottle. </p><p>“Take a swig of that.”</p><p>Ronan did. </p><p>“Take these.”</p><p>Ronan did. </p><p>“Put your head on the table until class starts.”</p><p>Ronan did. </p><p>There was something so pleasant about having Adam look after him, not just the ability to switch off his brain for a few minutes knowing he was in safe hands, not just being able to put down his responsibilities knowing someone else could pick them up, but it being Adam specifically, how he didn’t do it with any pity. It was just another thing to do on his list of things to do. </p><p>Adam always had things to do, Ronan had noticed in the months of watching but not watching. He kept busy in the way no one else seemed to; always with one eye on the future and one eye on the road to make sure he was heading in the right direction. He knew when to make little tweaks and stay the course. He was hard working and focused, dedicated in a way Ronan sometimes managed with his art, but only on those really good days. </p><p>Adam lived in the zone. </p><p>Ronan only visited it sometimes. </p><p>Whelk called for quiet and Ronan forced his head up off the desk. Adam had placed his notebook and a pen on the side of his desk. Ronan could’ve cried in gratitude. All day, he’d been bending and searching and trying and it was the last class and he just couldn’t anymore. He’d already called out of Nino’s for the week, the manager telling him to get better in his gruff sort of way, and he’d text Blue an update that he was almost certain made sense, and he’d put up a sale notice for his dad’s car on the Aglionby forums using old pictures he had saved in his email. </p><p>It had broken his heart but he already had people messaging him about it. He’d emphasised a quick sale and put the price up at eight so whoever bought it would feel like they’d gotten a bargain at five. </p><p>The whole day had been a neverending nightmare and now he just wanted to sleep. </p><p>Whelk finally called the class to an end, watching Ronan out of the corner of his eye throughout like he was afraid Ronan was going to die there and then. “Lynch,” he called as Ronan lay his head back on his desk and let Adam pack up his bag. “Why are you in class? All I’ve heard all day is how sick you are.”</p><p>Ronan sighed, tired of making excuses to everyone just told the truth. “Can’t go off sick without a doctor's note. Can’t afford a doctor.”</p><p>Whelk stared at him. “This fucking school,” he muttered. “Well, off you go. Don’t get me sick.”</p><p>He nodded and pushed himself up out of the chair. Adam was waiting at the door, holding his bag. Gansey stood beside him rubbing his lower lip with his thumb. They walked to Adam’s car in silence. Matthew was already waiting. </p><p>“Good thing I don’t have tennis today,” he said cheerfully in greeting. “How ya feeling, pal?”</p><p>Ronan grunted. </p><p>“Can you take that?” Adam asked, handing Matthew Ronan’s bag and unlocking the car. “Let’s get you home.”</p><p>***</p><p>The week passed in a blur of noise and pain and aches. Ronan’s fever finally broke on Tuesday night so all he had to contend with was the hacking coughs and raw throat. He ached all over and couldn’t get warm no matter what he tried. The teachers eventually just let him wear his hoodie and scarf, even gloves Adam had handed him on Wednesday morning. They didn’t go so far as allow him to keep his hood up but between classes, but lying on the desk before they started, he kept it up as protection against the cold and the noise. </p><p>Friday was the slowest day despite feeling moderately better. Knowing he had two full days off to recover felt like a miracle. He genuinely couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a day off, let alone two. Declan was much better after spending the week in bed but wouldn’t be back in the factory until Monday so Ronan was looking forward to spending some time with his brothers. </p><p>He walked out of school on Friday afternoon like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Half an hour and he’d been in bed. An actual bed since Matthew had offered to take the couch for the weekend and Ronan couldn’t turn him down. He’d actually offered for the full week but Ronan had refused because <i>you have school too, Matt</i>. They’d eventually compromised with a weekend on the couch. </p><p>The last time Ronan had slept in a bed had been the night his parents had been murdered so he was looking forward to the actual luxury of it. </p><p>“Hey!" Kavinsky shouted over the chatter of students excited for the weekend. "Lynch.”</p><p>Ronan's shoulders tensed but he kept walking. </p><p>"Yo! Lynch! I know you can hear me!" Ronan heard the oofs of students as K slammed through them. "Fucking move!"</p><p>Ronan sighed but paused so K could catch up. He was too tired for the fucker but too tired to play the usual games with him as well. He spun around, eyes going black at the sudden movement. “What?”</p><p>“Heard you’re selling your da’s old car,” K grinned. </p><p>Ronan nodded a curt shape, and frowned until violence settled between his lips. </p><p>“I want to buy it.”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“I’ll give you ten for it.” </p><p>Ronan stopped breathing, ignoring the annoyed huffs of the students around him and the clatter of car doors and the hum of excitement for the coming weekend. The sun sat low in the white sky with barely any illumination but still Ronan had to squint to protect his sore eyes. Aglionby sat behind them, smug and unwelcoming. </p><p>Ronan just wanted to go home. </p><p>“Fix it up real nice too," K said when he realised Ronan wasn't going to reply. "Might even let you drive it.” He laughed and leaned into Ronan’s rigid body, whispering in his ear. “Or maybe I’ll just burn it.” </p><p>K's breath was wet on his skin and Ronan wanted to punch him, wanted to laugh at him, wanted to storm away and ignore the offer, but ten thousand dollars was everything they needed to be safe. It was everything his brothers needed to be comfortable. It would get them through the winter, warm and fed. </p><p>He’d thought selling his dad’s car would be the worst of it. </p><p>He should’ve known things could always get worse. </p><p>“I want cash,” he replied, voice like gravel. “I want ten grand in my hands and then you can have it. And you’ll have to organise your own tow truck. It doesn’t drive.”</p><p>K grinned like a shark that smelled blood in the water, grinned like he was about to swallow Ronan whole. “That is no problem. I’ll come over on Sunday with the cash and the truck.”</p><p>Ronan nodded and walked away, heart nothing but the remnants of gunpowder staining the fingers of the man who killed his parents.</p>
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<a name="section0013"><h2>13. i can't unpack the baggage you left</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW: Canon typical abuse (None on the page but the discussion and ramifications so stay safe, lovelies!)</p><p>Hope you like the new chapter and have a lovely weekend!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Friday night meant a business dinner for the Parrish family. </p><p>It was in a restaurant an hour outside of Henrietta; situated on a members only golf course in an old building that served the fathers of fathers of fathers. It contained portraits of old members and rich brown mahogany, low lighting and privacy. They'd been attending it since Adam was ten and Robert had finally managed to buy his way in. They had to dress in suits, and had to smile and bow and praise the founding fathers of money and war. Adam hated it there, but when Robert called, he had to go. He sat in the back of her Robert’s Mercedes, tie so tight it felt like a noose and listened as his father explained the importance of these clients. He'd already done his homework on the company and on the people they were meeting. He knew better than to embarrass Robert. </p><p>His mother’s perfume drowned the car making the air heavy with the suffocating scent of flowers. It was giving Adam a headache but he couldn’t open the window because <i> it ruins my hair, Adam</i>. He took small sips out of the bottle of water he had brought and swallowed away any nausea. He’d dropped Ronan home, knowing he at least had a bed to sleep in, and text Gansey to let him know he’d be up for studying over the weekend to finish the project. He browsed the Aglionby forums when his parents started bitching about one of their neighbors and lost himself in the bitching of his schoolmates. </p><p>Adam found the post hidden away in the depths of a post about car maintenance. </p><p>Mostly the discussions were of good mechanics, or new mods, car speeds or the newest model, Adam hadn’t even known the thread existed and only clicked onto it when he saw Ronan’s name at the very top. </p><p>
  <i> For sale: 1975 vintage BMW. Original engine. Classic rims. Leather interior. Needs maintenance. $8000 or best offer. Contact Ronan Lynch with inquiries</i>
</p><p>Adam thought back to the conversation about missing work, thought about how they couldn’t afford medicine and how Ronan had only eaten this week when Adam had handed him the food himself. He thought of a house with no heating and a couch for a bed. Adam knew what it was to go without, his father had made sure when he was younger that he would truly appreciate everything the man had given him, and he had made sure Adam knew that what he had could be taken away in a moment of whimsy, so he understood hunger, cold and wanting. </p><p>Adam might not have understood the easy love the Lynch brothers shared but he understood the desperate need to have enough money to protect yourself from others who wanted to take your freedom away. </p><p>Adam had long ago decided that no one would have that power over him again. It was why he spent so much time playing the markets. It made him ache to think of Ronan selling something that clearly meant so much to him just so he and his brothers could survive. He’d seen Ronan running his fingers over the tarp-covered car every time he had passed it; an action repeated so many times it was no longer noticed. He saw how he fixed the cover and made sure nothing could touch exterior. He knew how much Ronan loved that car. Even without words. </p><p>Adam had to save it. </p><p>He got to the end of the thread and his heart sank. </p><p>
  <i> Buyer found. No more offers being accepted.</i>
</p><p>Adam closed his eyes and tried to think of a way to save the car for Ronan. </p><p>***</p><p>Adam sat beside the daughter of Robert’s client. She was blonde with blue eyes, shallow in a way Ronan’s were deep. Every time she laughed, she flicked her hair over her shoulder, and Adam had started counting it to see how often it happened. Tables littered the long room, far enough away that no one would be able to hear other conversations. Cherubs stared down from the painted ceilings. They hid behind clouds and sat on the shoulders of gods. It was a cheap replica of any Italian church.</p><p>Adam knew this was the type of room that made or broke a man.</p><p>“Have you been to Italy?” Sarah asked, following his eyes up and then flicking her blonde hair again. </p><p>“Once,” Adam admitted.</p><p>His parents had left him alone with a babysitter the whole time while they went on wine tours and spa days. Once he’d convinced the woman to sneak out to the Vatican when his parents went on an overnight trip to some vineyard two hours from Rome. It was one of the best days he’d ever had. When his father found out, he’d fired the babysitter and beat Adam until he’d learned <i>that actions have consequences, and you will do as I say, and you’re only here because the nanny got sick at the last minute, and you’re not here to enjoy yourself</i>.</p><p>Sarah took a sip of wine. “We go every summer. Mom wants me to be cultured. Plus it looks good on my college applications.”</p><p>“Where are you thinking of applying?” He asked, stirring the conversation away from bad memories and phantom pain. </p><p>“Oh, you know, the big four. Harvard, Yale, Princeton and Stanford.” She took a delicate bite of her chicken. “You?”</p><p>“Same. Might throw in a few extra just in case.”</p><p>Robert snorted. “You will not, son. You’ll be getting into them or you won’t be going.”</p><p>Everyone laughed, Adam included, but it took work for him to force the noise from his throat. </p><p>“And how is Aglionby?” Call me Jennifer, Robert’s client, asked. “I assume you’re keeping your GPA up.”</p><p>“4.75, madam. Top of the year in everything.”</p><p>“But Latin,” Robert snorted. “Doesn’t have a ear for languages, do ya, Adam?”</p><p>Adam didn’t bother mentioning he was fluent in Spanish and French. “No, sir. Only managing to come second in that class.”</p><p>“Well, second is not so bad.” Jennifer laughed. “You’re going to be valedictorian?” </p><p>“Seems that way.” Adam took a bite of his steak and tasted nothing. </p><p>“Sarah is doing fine with her grades but we have her focusing on extracurriculars this year. Give her a more rounded application.”</p><p>“Extracurriculars are important," Adam agreed like he was supposed to. "I row and tutor as well.”</p><p>Sarah grinned at him. “Must be where you got those biceps from.”</p><p>Adam forced a grin on his face but his ears were burning. He hated when people flirted with him. Hated not knowing the expectations and the rules. Hated the intent look his father gave him and the slight head tilt that said not to mess it up and piss off his client. </p><p>Adam took another bite of his steak and wished he could just go home. </p><p>Conversation moved onto the actual reason they were here, and Adam listened with half an ear to try and pick up any tips that might be worth having. Sarah chatted to him about college and the dancing team she was on, books she read and music she was listening to. Adam would have enjoyed the conversation but she kept inching closer, and by the time the waiter took the plates away, her thigh was pressed against his and she was laughing too loudly at his wafer thin jokes.Robert had managed to convince Jennifer to invest another million into his hedge fund, and Adam's mom had kept her husband chatting all night, so really it was a successful night at playing as the perfect family. </p><p>As they were leaving, Adam even helped Sarah into her coat and endured the hug she gave him before heading back to the car. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he leaned against the car to read the message. It was a picture of Ronan sprawled out on a bed with scrunched up tissues beside him and a book face down, blankets gathered around his waist and a black vest over his pale skin. The claws of his tattoo crawled over his shoulders and up his neck like blades. He had headphones on and a soft grin Adam had never seen before.  </p><p>Adam’s stomach flipped. </p><p>The message below said, <i>pure luxury</i>.</p><p>He grinned down at the phone and was about to text him back when Robert grabbed his phone. Adam’s heart dropped into his stomach and his dinner shot up his throat. He swallowed it back down as his father examined the picture with a sharp frown. </p><p>“Why is Ronan Lynch sending you pictures of himself in bed?”</p><p>Adam swallowed again. “He’s Gansey friend, remember? You told me to make friends with them.”</p><p>“Why is Ronan Lynch sending you pictures of himself in bed?” Robert growled, voice low but practically trembling in anger. “Is this why our medicine press is practically empty? Have you been giving this boy charity?”</p><p>“He’s sick, sir. He just wanted to let me know he was feeling better.” Adam couldn’t think of the right thing to say. Couldn’t think of how to calm down his father. </p><p>“We’ll talk about this when we get home.” He pocketed Adam’s phone and Adam was suddenly very glad that he kept nothing on it. “Get in the car before I hit you here.”</p><p>“Yes, sir.”</p><p>The ride home was quiet and his mom disappeared as soon as Robert began dishing out Adam’s punishment. </p><p>***</p><p>Robert didn’t give back his phone so Adam couldn’t contact anyone on Saturday. He knew he was meant to be studying with Gansey but everything hurt and he didn’t bother leaving his bed except for ice, painkillers and the toilet. The staff brought him food, averting their eyes from his messed up face, and something about that made him feel even worse, more alone than ever. </p><p>He fell asleep early Saturday evening and didn’t wake up until his dad’s car passed under his window on the way to the golf club on Sunday morning. The noise made every one of his muscles tense and he hissed out the pain it caused. He forced himself up, shoving on a pair of sweats and a soft t-shirt, wincing when he saw the mottled bruises painted across his ribs. A fleece hoodie felt like clouds on his sensitive skin and he threw his hood up to hide his face. He made a quick stop by the kitchen to pack up some food and coffee, despite what Robert had said about giving charity to those who didn’t deserve it, and <i>if I managed to pull myself up by my bootstraps than those Lynches sure as hell can do the same</i>.</p><p>He was out of the house ten minutes after his dad had left.</p><p>It was only when he pulled up in front of Ronan’s house that he realised he hadn’t bothered to cover the harsh bruising staining his face. He pulled down the sun visor and checked himself out in the mirror. He looked worse in the morning light. Around the eye socket was an ugly yellow that melted into a deep purple the closer to the eyelid it got. He had a cut across his nose and another across his cheek where his dad’s wedding ring had torn his skin. The whole right side of his face was spotted with dark bruising and his jaw hurt any time he moved it. He had a banging headache. His ribs ached. </p><p>He glanced away from the mirror, ready to just leave without seeing anyone, but Ronan was watching him from the porch. </p><p>Sighing, Adam got out of the car. “I brought breakfast.”</p><p>“The fuck happened your face?”</p><p>Adam shrugged. “Do you think it makes me look tough?”</p><p>“Makes you look like a loser.”</p><p>Adam didn’t respond. He’d just noticed that the BMW was uncovered and had clearly been washed. “Ronan, you’re not selling it.”</p><p>“Have no choice.”</p><p>Neither of them moved closer. The stretch of yard might as well have been a vast chasm for how far away Adam felt from him; Ronan’s voice was cold and distant, his eyes full of the same haughty anger he used to direct at Adam before they’d gotten to know each other. </p><p>“I can help you. Let me buy it.” He knew instantly it was the wrong thing to say. </p><p>Ronan’s shoulders tensed and a tendon stuck out at the side of his throat. “Parrish, I might let you bring me breakfast and coffee, but I’m not your fucking charity case. I’m not asking you to buy my beat up car for ten fucking grand.”</p><p>“Who’s going to buy it then?”</p><p>“Kavinsky.”</p><p>“Fuck, Lynch. Are you stupid?”</p><p>Ronan moved like a viper until he was right in front of Adam. “Why don’t you leave your house?” He didn't touch him, didn’t lay a finger on him, but Adam could feel the strength rolling off him. </p><p>The question caught Adam off guard. </p><p>“Why do you stay in his house when he does this to you? Why don’t you hit him back? Why don’t you tell someone?”</p><p>Adam still didn’t reply. </p><p>“Because you know what it is to be trapped under the thumb of someone else, don’t you? You know that every move has to be made with great consideration before you make it.” Ronan’s eyes scoured his face, taking things Adam had never given anyone. “You’re gonna wait until you’re eighteen, right? So no one can make you go back? Probably have a nice little nest egg saved too, make sure no one can control you again?”</p><p>Adam nodded because the expression on Ronan’s face demanded an answer. </p><p>“I don’t have the opportunities you have, Parrish. I don’t have the chance to escape. This,” he pointed to the house and the broken step, to the faded brown grass and weeds, to the uneven path and the shining BMW. “This is <i>my</i> life. There is no escape plan. I make a decision based on which one will protect me and my brothers for the longest, which one will give us an iota of breathing room.” He ran his hand across his buzz cut. Adam wondered if he realised it was shaking. “This car is more important to me than anything else I own. This is the only thing I care about and I have to give it up to protect my brothers. Don’t tell me I’m not thinking it through because all I fucking do anymore is think things through.”</p><p>“Lynch,” he reached forward slowly and wrapped his hand around Ronan’s wrist, loose enough that Ronan could pull away if he really wanted to. “Let me do this for you. Let me buy it. I can afford it.”</p><p>“If you buy it, then you have to take it.” Ronan’s blue eyes glistened in the early morning sunlight. “I don’t want your charity. If you buy it, it’s yours and I never want to see it again.”</p><p>Adam nodded. “I’ll take it away from here. I’ll keep it safe for you.”</p><p>“It won’t be mine anymore.” Ronan's voice was a wretched mess. </p><p>“It’ll always be yours, Lynch.”</p><p>Ronan stared over his shoulder, refusing to meet Adam's eyes. “I need the money before next week. I have rent to pay.”</p><p>Adam nodded. “I can do that. I just need to go to the bank and get you a check.”</p><p>“It has to be cash.”</p><p>“No problem,” Adam replied quickly, thinking of how he could easily get that from his secret bank account. Ten thousand was so much money but Adam had more than enough for college and to buy his own apartment and would make that back in less than a month. He knew what it was to be stuck and he refused to let Ronan feel that way for a second longer. </p><p>Ronan blinked and gazed down at Adam’s long fingers around his wrist. He looked smaller now that he was done shouting, looked like a simple breeze could take him off his feet. When he shivered, Adam took his hoodie off and threw it over his shoulders. </p><p>“Let’s go inside, Lynch. You’re freezing.”</p><p>Ronan nodded, and they went back into his house.</p>
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<a name="section0014"><h2>14. will you remember all the danger we came from</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you, as always, for your support! You're all the best!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ronan was shivering by the time he sat down. He was still recovering and the adrenaline from the fight had left him fight had left him trembling. Adam watched him get settled then layered him in blankets and disappeared to make coffee. </p><p>The sound of cupboards opening and closing filled the small space. “Where’s Matthew?”</p><p>“I sent him into his room when I heard your car." Ronan coughed and his ribs spasmed. "The kid could earn a gold medal in sleep for the fucking Olympics,” he managed after a second. </p><p>Adam laughed quietly, filling the kettle as he did. </p><p>Ronan leaned his head back, resting on the couch and regretted everything about this day, this week, this month, this life. He was exhausted; weakness made his hands shake and his ribs hurt, he’d barely slept for the week because of coughing and fever, had barely managed to keep up to date on all his assignments, and the two nights in Matthew’s bed had helped, but it would take a while for him to feel like he hadn’t had the shit kicked out of him. </p><p>There was a knock at the door. </p><p>Ronan knew exactly who that was. </p><p>He stood up and threw on his boots. “You stay the fuck here,” he said to Adam, pointing to the kitchen before he pulled the door open. “K, I had a better offer. I was about to text you.”</p><p>K didn’t say anything for a long moment. “We had a deal, fuckface.”</p><p>“We barely had a fucking agreement," Ronan snarled, his anger the easiest thing in his life to grab onto. "Now get the fuck off my lawn.”</p><p>K stepped forward and slammed his hand on the door jamb. “Parrish say he’d buy your car? That how he’s gonna get into your pants, huh, Lynch? Selling yourself now?”</p><p>Fire burned across Ronan’s skin and he took a step forward. “Joseph Kavinsky, you better back the fuck up. I am not the man you want to play this game with.”</p><p>K took a step back and the expression on his face told Ronan it hadn’t been voluntary. </p><p>“That’s what I fucking thought,” he hissed. “I got a better offer so fuck off and leave me and my brothers the fuck alone.”</p><p>“Ro?” Declan said, voice tense. </p><p>Ronan didn’t look away from K and he was vindicated to see him flinch at the sound of Declan’s voice. “Run along, fuckface, before me and Dec remind you of some lessons we’ve already taught you.”</p><p>Ronan felt it when Declan stepped up behind him but neither of them said anything. K glanced between them, and then with a snarl, he stalked down the steps of the porch and slammed into his car. The Mercedes roared to life and screamed down the road. </p><p>Shivery relief flooded Ronan and he fell against the door jamb. That asshole wouldn’t have his fathers car. He still had to sell it but at least he knew Adam would keep it safe. His hands were shaking and he wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or the adrenaline. He coughed to clear his throat and then couldn’t stop.</p><p>“C’mon, man. Let’s get you inside.” Declan’s warm arm wrapped around his shoulder and led him to the kitchen table. </p><p>Adam, sitting in the opposite chair, pushed a cup towards him. “Drink the coffee.”</p><p>He took a long drag of the warm liquid. </p><p>Declan glanced between the two of them. “Is someone going to explain what the fuck that asshole was doing at our front door?”</p><p>Adam just gazed at Ronan, one eyebrow quirked. </p><p>“Fuck. Fine.” He wrapped his arms around his ribs, still too cold. Seeing his discomfort, Adam shrugged off his heavy hoodie and handed it to Ronan. “You look like shit,” Ronan said when he could see the full the extent of Adam’s injuries. </p><p>“Fucking hell, Adam.” Declan took Adam’s chin in his hand and tilted Adam’s face to the side. “The fuck happened to you? Was it K?”</p><p>Ronan snorted, ignoring the burn of jealousy that Declan was getting to touch Adam. “Yeah, Adam, was it K?”</p><p>Adam very carefully removed Declan’s hand from his chin. “It wasn’t K. Please don’t ask me who it was.” His pale eyes were pleading and unhappy. </p><p>Declan clenched his jaw but nodded. “Okay. I won’t. But you know you can come here, right? Anytime. Day or night. You’re safe here. We’ll get another couch.”</p><p>Adam let out a disbelieving laugh. “You’d do that for me?”</p><p>“In a fucking heartbeat, Parrish,” Ronan agreed, and seeing how drawn and tired Adam looked because of the simple statement, he said, “K wanted to buy the car. He was gonna give me ten for it. I couldn’t turn him down.”</p><p>Declan sat down on the armrest of the couch heavily. “Ro…”</p><p>“No. We needed the fucking money." Ronan pulled the cup closer and ignored his brother's eyes on him. "Anyway, it doesn’t matter because Adam is going to buy it instead.”</p><p>“Adam?”</p><p>Adam shrugged. “I have the money and I didn’t want K to get his hands on Ronan’s car. It would just make him more dangerous. More likely to lash out.”</p><p>“Now, though, he’s going to lash out at you,” Declan said gently.</p><p>Adam shrugged. “Nothing I can’t handle.” He sounded exhausted. “I brought my schoolbag, do you feel up for studying?”</p><p>Ronan allowed the change of subject. “Sure, Parrish. Can’t have you catching up to me in Latin.”</p><p>Adam’s smile was bright and easy. Ronan’s heart stuttered and he tucked his face into the collar of Adam’s hoodie to hide the smile that lifted his lips. </p><p>Declan glanced between them and grinned. “I’ll make breakfast.”</p><p>***</p><p>Ronan sat in the driver's seat of the BMW on Sunday evening. </p><p>Sunset was a meadow of autumn leaves. It split across the winter sky like a bonfire that held no heat. Ronan still had on Adam’s hoodie. The soft fleece kept the worst of the chill at bay. Out here, far from the lights of Henrietta, night fell like a stone dropping into a lake. Nothing lasted of the sunset from one blink to another. There were stars though. </p><p>Thousands and thousands of stars. </p><p>Ronan ran his hands over the cold leather of the steering wheel. He settled further into the soft seat and closed his eyes, pretending even now he could smell his dad. He missed him like someone had stolen a lung. He missed his mom like someone had stolen his heart. They’d had a good life; they weren’t rich but they were rich in love. Laughter was always on the tip of his tongue. Music saturated every moment of the day from the moment he woke up to the lullaby his mom sung to them every night. No matter their age. </p><p>Their house wasn’t big but it was big enough. Ronan and Declan shared a room. Matthew had the tiny boxroom. His parents slept downstairs in a converted garage. The kitchen was the centre of the house; big enough to fit the table and a couch, they ate there, did their homework there, and watched TV together. His dad would be gone for weeks at a time, and his mom had made up a game where each night they all came together in Declan and Ronan’s room, Matthew curled up on Aurora’s lap, and made up stories about where his father was now, and what magical adventure he was on. </p><p>Saving a princess from a dragon.</p><p>Rescuing a prince from an evil wizard. </p><p>Master spy.</p><p>Race car driver. </p><p>Astronaut. </p><p>Pilot. </p><p>She took them on adventures and let them add in their own parts and then sang them to sleep. Now he knew the truth, knew what his dad had really been doing, what he had stolen from the family, Ronan found it hard to look back at those memories without the bitter sting of bile. He couldn’t understand why she had allowed it, why either of them had been willing to risk their family for such a dangerous job. If it wasn’t murder, it would have been jail. </p><p>Niall Lynch lived with his head in the clouds too often for him to ever get away with it forever. </p><p>Ronan hated them and loved them and missed them and ached with his anger at them. </p><p>He closed his eyes and imagined speeding down the asphalt, moonlight lighting his way and Adam at his side. He jerked his eyes open. That was a dangerous road to travel. Ronan knew better than believing in his dreams. Too many of his nightmares had already come true. </p><p>*** </p><p>Ronan startled awake. </p><p>He lay still for a long moment trying to figure out why he wasn’t still sleeping. Moonlight was a long strip of white across the wooden floor. It made the rest of the room seem even darker. He threw his hand over his eyes and groaned. Now he was awake, he couldn’t ignore the pressure on his bladder and the dryness of his mouth. He pushed himself up and walked over to the toilet. </p><p>When he finished and opened the bathroom door, he noticed the man sitting at his kitchen table. </p><p>The man raised one finger to his lips. </p><p>Ronan nodded and swallowed down his reaction. </p><p>He crossed the sitting room, wrapping Adam’s hoodie tighter around him, slept in because it was warmer than Ronan’s and the house was so cold now they’d crept into November. He walked past the man and got a glass of water. His hands shook as he took a sip. </p><p>Steadying himself on the counter, he waited for five long seconds and then turned to face the stranger. </p><p>“Greenmantle sent you?”</p><p>The man nodded. </p><p>“To kill us?” Ronan was proud his voice didn’t crack. He was already considering ways to get Matthew to safety. </p><p>The man shook his head and tilted it to the seat opposite him in clear invitation. </p><p>Digging his hands into the pockets of the hoodie, he warily made his way across the kitchens and sat at the table. Up close he could see the man wore all grey. He had grey hair and grey eyes. His face held no expression and he seemed unbothered by Ronan’s examination. He sat casually but Ronan could see the strength in the coiled tension of his body. </p><p>Ronan didn’t think he’d be able to take this man. He didn’t think him <i>and</i> Declan would be able to take him together. </p><p>“Why are you here?” He finally said when the silence had become unbearable. “If not to kill us?”</p><p>The man tilted his head again and examined Ronan. “You look exactly like him, you know that? Matthew takes after Aurora, and Declan might as well have crawled in with the coal for all the way he looks like either of them, but you are the spitting image of Niall.”</p><p>Ronan tensed with the sudden realisation he was sitting across from his parents killer.</p><p>“I liked them. The few times I met Aurora and the many, many times I met Niall. They were good people. He should never have stolen that money.”</p><p>Ronan nodded. He knew all about his father’s legacy. Greenmantle had explained it to them on the day of the funeral. They knew what Niall had done, and what he had cursed his children to by doing it. </p><p>“You killed them?” He had to force the words out of his tight throat. </p><p>The man nodded, “When Greenmantle orders a hit like that, it doesn’t matter how much you like a person.”</p><p>Tears pricked at Ronan’s eyes and he fisted his hands. The only thing keeping him in his seat was the fact his brothers were sleeping less than ten feet away and this man was all kinds of dangerous if he was confident enough to admit his part in the murders. </p><p>He swallowed and then swallowed again. His throat clicked. “What do you want?”</p><p>“Greenmantle has sent me to find the money your father stole. I figured this would be the best place to start.”</p><p>“We don’t have it otherwise we would have given it to him on the day of the funeral. Having him breathing down our necks…” Ronan trailed off when the man nodded. </p><p>“It is not an enjoyable experience. I understand.” He tapped his finger on the table. “Did your father have any hidey holes? Secret places?”</p><p>“What happens if you find the money? To us, I mean?”</p><p>“Ah. Declan is not the only smart one.” He took a deep breath and examined the small room. “He won’t ever let you out from under his thumb. He will still expect you to pay him back and he will keep adding on money until you have no choice but to beg him for work. He will pretend to trust and when he grows bored he’ll kill you all too. Your father sighed all of your death warrants when he stole that money.”</p><p>“Why are we still alive now?”</p><p>“Because you are a lesson to others for the moment but the lesson is ongoing. It will have to finish eventually.”</p><p>Ronan leaned his head against the wall, suddenly exhausted. They were fighting tooth and nail to survive. <i>Fighting. Fighting. Fighting.</i> And it was all probably going to be for nothing. He blinked back tears.</p><p>“Fucking figures,” he muttered.</p><p>“We’re all dying, Ronan. You are just more aware of it than others. Do not let this discourage you. You might get ten years or ten days. But it is still worth whatever you make of it.”</p><p>“You’re pretty philosophical for a hit man.”</p><p>“I prefer poetry.”</p><p>Ronan snorted. “Dad didn’t have hiding places, and if he did, he never told us about them. All he cared about was us and his car.”</p><p>The man hummed. “We already tore the house apart so it isn’t there.”</p><p>Ronan knew that too. After the funeral, they had walked into a whirlwind of mess, ripped cushions, torn pictures and emptied drawers. Greenmantle had sat among the wreckage; a king presiding over a battlefield. </p><p>“He’ll know your selling the car. You won’t be able to hide that from him.”</p><p>“Wasn’t going to.”</p><p>“He’ll want all the money.”</p><p>Tears pricked at Ronan’s eyes. “Don’t suppose you could just not tell him?”</p><p>“Would if I could, kid.”</p><p>Ronan rested his head in his arms, suddenly too exhausted to care that there was a killer less than a foot away. “Does it get easier? Does any of it ever get easier?”</p><p>The man didn’t reply but Ronan heard him stand. “Make your friend leave the car in your front garden. Hide the money somewhere he won’t be able to find it. Under the floorboards beneath the fridge. In the walls behind your washing machine. Somewhere that is a pain to get to and that in a search he won’t bother looking. Don’t spend it on anything unless you have a month like this one. If he asked you borrowed the money from the nice women at Fox Way.”</p><p>Ronan tried to listen as he crossed the sitting room but the man made no noise. </p><p>“It gets easier, kid. It always gets easier.”</p>
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<a name="section0015"><h2>15. what you'll see is the worst me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Not going to lie, I didn't think there'd be a chapter this week because I am drowning in an environmental ethics essay, and ooh boy, is my brain mush.</p><p>Anyway, this is my way of warning this may not be up to scratch but I did my best. Now I'm going to go crash for twelve hours and do more essay tomorrow. </p><p>Comments would be so appreciated because essay life is The Worst. </p><p>(Also I will respond to last weeks comments tomorrow because mush brain cannot think of words anymore but I appreciate every one of them!)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Adam found Ronan in the art room on Wednesday evening. </p><p>He knocked before he went in, feeling oddly out of place, and by the time he’d opened the door whatever Ronan had been working on was well covered. It stood tall under the white sheet, almost two feet long and a foot high. Adam desperately wanted to know what was under it but the tension in Ronan’s shoulders stopped him from asking. </p><p>He dragged his eyes away and smiled. “I have your money. Sorry it took so long. Apparently you have to order that amount from the bank. They don’t just let you walk out with it on the day.”</p><p>“Buyer's remorse,” Ronan said, grin feral. “Are you sure you want to do this? K is still willing to take the car.”</p><p>Adam ignored the question and rooted through his bag. “Here.” </p><p>He didn’t watch Ronan as he took the money, wasn’t sure he wanted to see what expression Ronan’s face made. Instead he examined the art room; it was different than the other classrooms in Aglionby. Less stuffy. More freedom. Student paintings lined one wall, all tacked over each other in a canopy of colour and styles and images. There was a whole wall of windows which shone weak November sunlight on drying sculptures. The whole room stunk of turpentine and paint and sweat and warmth. Stools sat under the tall desks; some with projects visible, some hidden like Ronan's. </p><p>Ronan took the brown envelope. “Very suspicious of you, Parrish.” </p><p>Hearing the smile in his voice, Adam glanced up. The envelope had already disappeared into Ronan’s bag and there was a faint line of pink along his sharp cheekbones. Adam wanted to touch him, wanted to taste. He took a casual step backwards to examine some of the paintings on the wall. They were startling in the differences in style and skill. Some were clearly from students who would eventually go on to be professional artists. Others were clearly just here for the easy grade. </p><p>“I need another favour,” Ronan said, voice intentionally casual. </p><p>It made Adam feel <i>things</i> to know when Ronan was being intentional. “Sure, anything.”</p><p>He snorted. “You don’t even know what I’m going to ask for.”</p><p>Adam shrugged, eyes still on the paintings, “Any of these yours?”</p><p>“I mostly do sculpture.” He kicked a desk and threw his bag on the top of it. The movements were violent and loud like he needed to get the excess energy out. “I need you to leave the car in front of my house.”</p><p>“Okay,” Adam said easily. “I have nowhere to keep it anyway.”</p><p>Ronan examined suspiciously for a long moment and then he nodded. “Alright then.” He checked the time on his phone. “Shit. I’ve got to get to work.”</p><p>“You want a lift?” Adam didn't examine why he was asking, why he wanted to steal as many moments as he could in Ronan's presence, wanted to hoard them like gold, so when he was stuck in his house alone and hurting he had something precious to look at. With practiced eased, he pushed the thoughts away and grinned at Ronan. "Save your energy for your customers." </p><p>Ronan rolled his eyes but he grinned as well. “Sure, why not?” Ronan shrugged his bag on and wrapped Adam’s scarf around his neck. “Our presentation is tomorrow, right?” </p><p>Adam ignored how the sight of Ronan in his scarf made his stomach flutter and nodded, “Gansey said he was happy to present it since Whelk doesn’t want us all up there.”</p><p>“Fucking great. Is there much left to do?”</p><p>Adam shook his head, following Ronan from the room. “Not too much. I’m going over to his now to make sure it’s all finished.” </p><p>“Lynch.” The shout echoed up the empty corridor. </p><p>Ronan’s shoulders tensed again and his face became a battleground. He spun around and faced K as he came barreling down the hallway. </p><p>“Lynch, Parrish. Thought I heard your voices.”</p><p>“What the fuck do you want?”</p><p>K shrugged. “Hey, I’m innocent, man. I had a meeting with the dean about my lack of attendance.” He rolled his eyes. “Like my fucking father isn’t going to pay him some money to shut the fuck up. What are you two doing together? Quicky in the bathroom? Earning your keep, Lynch?”</p><p>Ronan took a step forward but Adam put a hand on his forearm. “K, we’re leaving. You might as well too.”</p><p>K spent too long glaring at Adam’s hand. “Well, fuck you both,” he replied and stormed down the way they had come. “If you ever get bored of that ride, Lynch, you know where I am.”</p><p>Ronan stared down at his feet, breathing in slow and deep. “I fucking hate this school and these fucking people and the fucking rules choking me and my fucking life and all of it. I fucking hate my father and his fucking stupid decisions and assholes like K who can do whatever the fuck he wants.” He shook off Adam’s hand. “I actually don’t need that lift. I’ll see ya, Parrish.”</p><p>He stormed off and Adam was left standing alone in a shaft of too bright sunlight. </p><p>***</p><p>Adam was quiet when he reached Monmouth. Gansey seemed to notice but didn’t pressurize him to talk which Adam was eternally grateful for. They finished up their presentation, sticking printouts to bright cardboard, and using the glue Gansey made it minute Henrietta, they stuck images of Glendower and a tomb, ravens and crowns. It looked acceptable by the time they were finished, neither of them artists, and Adam wished Ronan had time to go over it with his much more impressive skill. </p><p>Although now Adam thought about it, he had never seen any of Ronan’s art. </p><p>“Nino’s?” </p><p>Adam nodded, stomach grumbling. </p><p>“Jane is working tonight,” Gansey said, not quite managing the casual tone he was aiming for. “I said we might pop in when I was talking to her earlier.”</p><p>“You talk a lot?”</p><p>Gansey picked his way through main street and opened the door. The back of his neck was slightly pink under the collar of his jacket. “Oh you know, just a normal amount really. We went for a drive the other night down the new highway that’s not open yet.” He shrugged and trotted down the stairs. “We’re just friends.”</p><p>“For now,” Adam said with a grin. </p><p>Gansey ran a thumb along his lower lip, gazing at Adam over the roof of the pig. “For now,” he agreed in a quietly uncertain voice. “Will I drive?”</p><p>“Might as well,” Adam agreed and climbed into the passenger seat. </p><p>He adored the pig in the same way he adored Monmouth or Ronan’s kitchen table or the quiet moment when he knew his stocks were going to yield results. There was a truthfulness to these places, to those moments. Proof that these boys, these friends of his, were real and true and bursting with potential. </p><p>He couldn’t wait to see what they would all do when they were free from Aglionby. </p><p>Nino’s as always was packed with Raven boys but they managed to get a booth in Blue’s section. They were looking at the menu, despite the fact they ordered the same thing every time, when Blue came over to get their order. Adam could see Ronan rushing around his own section and he wished they’d managed to be seated there instead. Ronan didn't look mad anymore but there was something defeated in his expression that made Adam ache. He pushed the thoughts aside again, grinning when he saw how Gansey lit up when Blue smiled at him. </p><p>“So what can I get you?” She asked, opening her small notebook and pulling a pen from behind her ear. </p><p>Gansey glanced at Adam and smiled when he waved a hand to go ahead. “We’ll have large, deep-dish, half sausage, half avocado pizza, please, Jane, and ice tea.”</p><p>Blue’s only reaction to the nickname was rolled eyes. “My wish is your command,” she muttered with a small grin. </p><p>“Blue!” Noah Czerny raced across the restaurant, dodging tables, and swept her up in a hug. “I was hoping to see you today. It's been so very long.”</p><p>“You saw me three days ago, Noah.”</p><p>“Three long, barren, lonely days. Where’s Ronan?” </p><p>Ronan glanced up from where he was cleaning a table off and waved. </p><p>“Can I join you?” Noah asked Gansey who nodded. “Henry, over here.”</p><p>Henry Cheng strolled across the restaurant, hair reaching for the ceiling. “Ganseyboy! Fancy seeing you here.” He slid in beside him and started a discussion on the student council. </p><p>Noah added to their order and slid in beside Adam. He scraped his fork along his napkin but didn’t talk. Just as Adam was sure it’d be stuck listening to Gansey and Henry’s lively but boring debate on the benefits of a school council, Noah turned in the booth and faced him. </p><p>“So, Adam, heard you bought Ronan’s car?” Noah wasn’t looking at him, even though he was facing him, instead he watched as his fork tore his napkin to shreds. “Heard you’ve been giving him food and studying with him and drawing K’s attention to him even more.”</p><p>“Seems you’ve heard a lot of things there, Noah.”</p><p>Noah shrugged and finally glanced up at Adam. It was the first time Adam had seen him without the easy smile he usually wore on his face. </p><p>“Don’t hurt him. He may walk around like he’s built for nothing but war but don’t you dare hurt him.” Noah's voice was low enough that no one would be able to hear the words over the din of the restaurant and the cheerful fight opposite them. “You don’t get to stroll into his life and then back out again, do you understand me? If you’re not here for the long term then you can fuck off now because he’s been through enough.”</p><p>Adam gaped at him. He had never, not in a million years, thought that Noah Czerny would be giving him a shovel talk about Ronan Lynch while Richard Gansey and Henry Cheng argued about fascist school boards less than two feet away. </p><p>Swallowing away his disbelief, Adam glared. “I’m not an idiot, Noah. And I have no interest in hurting Ronan.”</p><p>“Doesn’t mean you won’t manage it.”</p><p>Adam nodded. “I’d never do it on purpose. Never. He’s one of the best things that’s ever happened to me.”</p><p>“Fuck." Noah blinked. "You have feelings for him.”</p><p>“No. I don’t. He’s my friend.” Adam’s heart was beating too fast and he needed some air. “I need to go to the bathroom.”</p><p>Noah examined him for a long second before moving and letting him out. </p><p>Adam rushed across the restaurant. The hallway to the toilets were blessedly empty. It leaned against the cool wall and took several long, calming breaths. He hadn’t meant to say that to one of Ronan’s friends. He hadn’t meant to say it at all. Adam was adept at lying; to himself and to everyone else. He banged his head against the wall. He had been lying to himself successfully about how he felt about Ronan, burying and layering it in friendship and companionship and study partners and <i>nothing nothing nothing</i> and now he’d laid himself bare not only to himself, not in the privacy of his head late at night when he could pretend it was just exhaustion and dreams, but he’d told Noah, Ronan’s best friend. </p><p>“Fuck,” Adam muttered viciously to the empty corridor. “Fucking fuck.”</p>
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<a name="section0016"><h2>16. and everything you love will burn up in the light</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Why am I so cruel? I hate this chapter, it made me very sad, so like pre-warning, it will probably also make you sad. Come give out to me in the comments. </p><p>This is a day early because I finally finished my essay and I am dead so I'm taking tomorrow off. But last essay of my course, just my thesis, and then I'm done :0</p><p>Thank you for all the kind comments last week! You cheered me up a lot!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Anger burned under Ronan’s skin until he couldn’t breathe.</p><p>He wanted to smash the plates in his hands, tear the fake smile off his face with ragged fingers, scream and scream and scream. He saw Noah talk to Adam, saw Adam race off to the bathroom, and considered following him to apologise for earlier, but he wasn’t sorry, he was only <i>rage rage rage</i></p><p>He wanted to set someone on fire with him. </p><p>He wanted them all to burn. </p><p>Catching Noah’s eye, he tilted his head to the staff entrance. Noah followed him out easily. The fresh air was oxygen on a spark; the flames engulfed him and Ronan wanted to burn too. He had no outlet, no self destructive behaviours he could indulge in, nothing to get rid of this reckless itch under his skin. </p><p>“I need to race,” he said through gritted teeth. </p><p>Noah nodded. “I’ll meet you after work.”</p><p>Relief was cold water over too hot skin. Ronan nodded curtly and went back into the restaurant to finish his shift. He ignored them all; Gansey’s concerned glances, Noah’s knowing looks, Blue’s gentle gazes and Adam’s averted eyes. </p><p>He was glad Adam refused to look at him, glad he was still angry at Ronan for the fight earlier, because Ronan thought if he could just get his attention the inferno burning him down would be banked and calm and he would maybe, <i>maybe</i>, feel better. </p><p>He didn’t want to feel better. There was too much pulsating across his skin; the phone call telling them about their parents murder, K’s eyes always watching him until Ronan thought he’d have to scratch his skin off to feel clean again, Greenmantle and the stranger and the bags under Declan’s eyes and Matthew’s brave smile every time they couldn’t afford something. The dismissive looks from his teachers even when he did well, and the pity from the admin staff when Dec had to sign something for him, his dad’s car that was no longer his, and the ten grand burning a hole in his bag. </p><p>Ronan needed to destroy something, and since he couldn’t destroy himself, he’d ruin all the promises he’d ever made. He had to race or he was going to tear out of his skin. </p><p>Noah was waiting for him when his shift ended hours later. </p><p>Ronan threw his bike into the back of the car, and climbed into the driver's seat. He placed his hand on the leather of the steering wheel, warm from Noah’s skin, and stretched his fingers out. He slammed the door, and then liking the noise, he opened it and slammed it again. </p><p>“That sort of night then?”</p><p>Ronan nodded. </p><p>Without another word, Noah connected his phone to the sound system and blasted EDM loud enough Ronan knew his ears would be ringing by the time he’d calmed down. </p><p>If he calmed down. </p><p>Grief was a boiling ocean breaking down all of his carefully constructed walls. He’d met his parents killer, had sat across from him and made polite conversation. He’d sold his dad’s car. Kavinsky was a privileged fucking shadow that wouldn’t back the fuck up. Adam was always there, reminding him every day what he’d never have, what he didn’t deserve, what he was and who he was and shame was a slick layer of oil under his skin. </p><p>He revved the engine and Noah whooped. </p><p>“Do it, Ronan. Just let go.”</p><p>With a snake-like grin, Ronan roared out of the parking lot and down the dark highway. </p><p>Kavinsky found them an hour later like a shark finds blood. He pulled up and his smirk deepened into a cruel smile when he saw who was driving. “Well, look at you, fuckface. Finally being who you really are.”</p><p>Ronan glared at him but he allowed his grin to turn into blades. “Are we racing or are you gonna fuck around all night?”</p><p>“All the romance has gone out of this relationship.”</p><p>“You can go fuck yourself.”</p><p>“Or you could do it.”</p><p>Ronan snorted. “It’s never going to me and you K. Not ever.”</p><p>Kavinsky revved his engine in reply. “Go when the lights turn green.”</p><p>Ronan nodded and turned back to the road. Noah was a firecracker of tension and excitement beside him. Ronan spared him one second of a glance, grinning and burning and <i>alive alive alive</i> before he fell into the quiet place of speed and racing and destruction. </p><p>The light turned green. </p><p>Ronan shifted into gear and jumped off the starting line. The speedometer crept up and up. Kavinsky was nothing but a white blur. Noah was a cheering commotion filling the car. He shifted into fourth gear and K missed the switch and Ronan flew up the road and he was just this moment and this second and this speed and this black tarmac beneath him. </p><p>Blue and red light flashed in the rearview mirror. </p><p>“Fuck.”</p><p>K had already disappeared and Ronan couldn’t help but think it’d been a set up. <i>Of course</i> K knew the cops were waiting, <i>of course</i> he fucked off and let Ronan get caught. All he wanted was to ruin everything Ronan was working so hard to desperately hold onto. </p><p>Noah was already taking off his seatbelt. “Switch seats with me. Now, Ronan.”</p><p>“Noah…” Ronan pulled the car onto the side of the road and turned off the engine. </p><p>Now,” Noah snapped, unlocking Ronan’s seatbelt and pulling him over the gearbox. </p><p>Ronan let himself be dragged. He watched numb as Noah settled into the driver's seat and clicked in his seatbelt. Ronan did the same but his hands wouldn’t work properly and it took three times. By the time the officer reached them, Noah already had his ownership papers and driver's license in his lap. </p><p>“How can I help you, officer?” He asked after he’d rolled down his window. “Was I over the speed limit?”</p><p>The sheriff's deputy grunted and took his papers. “Are you aware racing is highly illegal and I could take your license for this?”</p><p>“I wasn’t racing, sir. Just driving slightly over the speed limit.” Noah glanced around the empty road. “Who would I have been racing, sir?”</p><p>Ronan kept his head in the shadow and tried to keep his pulsing heart under control. Guilt and exhaustion were all he was left with. The anger had finally burned itself out in the face of Noah’s friendship. He knew Noah had the power here, knew nothing would happen to him, not with his rich mother and his art school acceptance and his raven boy car and his Aglionby charm. </p><p>Ronan had none of those things. Everything Ronan had was secondhand and stolen and broken and easily taken back. </p><p>“What about him?” The officer flashed the torch on Ronan’s face and he forced himself not to flinch. </p><p>Noah shrugged, casual and easy. “Friend I’m driving home from work.”</p><p>“Ronan Lynch.” Disdain dripped off the words. </p><p>This time Ronan couldn’t help but flinch. He didn’t reply. </p><p>“Didn’t your daddy get murdered for being involved in shit he shouldn’t have been?” </p><p>Ronan recognised the voice of someone drunk on power. </p><p>Something inside him shuddered. He already knew exactly how this was going to play out; he had never been more aware of how little power he owned, than <i>right now</i>, when he was sitting here in Noah’s car and still being picked out for being less than the dirt under a shoe. </p><p>“And now you’re doing the same.” The officer sneered. “Racing. Breaking the law. Step out of the car, son.”</p><p>Ronan’s heart dropped into his stomach and he swallowed down bile and fear. His voice was steady when he said, “Yes, sir.”</p><p>“Why?” Noah asked, all the charm leached from his voice. </p><p>The officer clicked his tongue. “Because I have to check this boy for drugs.”</p><p>Noah glanced between the two of them. “Excuse me?”</p><p>“Noah, it’s fine,” Ronan replied, unbuckling his seatbelt with trembling hands. He stepped from the car and placed his hands on the roof, spreading his legs before the officer could even ask him. </p><p>The officer walked around the car after directing Noah to stay where he was and stared at Ronan. “Old hat at breaking the law, are ya?”</p><p>Ronan snorted. “Just used to be profiled because of who my dad was.”</p><p>“Whatever, son. It runs in the blood.”</p><p>“I’m not your son,” Ronan gritted out, keeping his hands flat on the roof as he endured the hands patting him down. As soon as the officer finished, Ronan stepped back. “We done here?”</p><p>“Need to search your bag.”</p><p>Ronan swallowed, well aware of the money resting in it, but knowing if he refused, it'd just make the cop more suspicious. He reached into his seat and grabbed the bag. “Here.”</p><p>The man took a long time to root through before he came across the brown envelope. The officer opened it and whistled. “Where did you get that?”</p><p>“Sold my car.”</p><p>“Sure you did.” The officer pulled out his handcuffs. “I’m placing you under arrest for suspicion…”</p><p>“Wait,” Noah said, scrambling around the car. “He can prove it. Right, Ro? Call Adam and get him to confirm the story.”</p><p>“Adam?” He twirled his handcuffs on one finger. </p><p>Ronan <i>hated hated hated</i> him.</p><p>“Adam Parrish, sir,” Noah replied, slipping back on his Aglionby mask of respectability like it was nothing.  “He can confirm that he bought Ronan’s dad’s <i>vintage</i> BMW.”</p><p>The officer glared but nodded. “Adam Parrish as in Robert Parrish’s son?”</p><p>Noah nodded. </p><p>“You been messing with the Parrish family, son?” He glared at Ronan, and it was only Ronan’s steel spine that stopped him from wilting under the look of disgust crossing the officer’s face. “Ruining that nice boy’s future with your—” he paused as if he couldn’t find a word bad enough to describe Ronan. “What is Adam’s number then?”</p><p>Ronan reeled it off, unsure when he had learned Adam’s number by heart.</p><p>The officer dialed it on his phone but Ronan could hear the ringtone from here. </p><p><i>please pick up please pick up please pick up</i> </p><p>His prayers were so rarely answered these days that he startled at the mumbled hello on the other end of the line. </p><p>“Sorry for bothering so late, sir.” </p><p>Ronan ignored the twinge at how he got called a dismissive <i>son</i> and Adam got <i>sir</i>.</p><p>“This is Officer Jones, I’ve got a Ronan Lynch here. No he’s not hurt. Just a routine traffic stop and I found some money in his bag he’s claiming you gave it to him to buy his car?”</p><p>Ronan couldn’t hear Adam’s reply but it was sharp. </p><p>“Well, sir, it’s routine to search for drugs when confronted with suspicious—”</p><p>Adam must have interrupted and whatever he said was not kind because the officer winced. </p><p>“Sometimes you have to go with your gut and when a Lynch is involved—”</p><p>Adam said something harsh and Ronan suddenly realised how young the deputy was. Barely older than Declan. </p><p>“Not profiling, sir. I don’t think you need to take my badge number.  I understand. Okay. Thank you.” He hung up and sighed, handing the bag back to Ronan with the money still inside. “Watch yourself, Lynch,” he muttered before stalking back to his patrol car. </p><p>Neither him or Noah moved until the officer had slammed his door and sped away. </p><p>“Fuck,” Noah said. </p><p>Ronan’s phone was ringing. He answered it without bothering to look at the name. He knew who it was going to be. “Hey,” he said, sounding wrecked even to his ears. </p><p>“Does that happen often?” Adam asked carefully. </p><p>Ronan shrugged even though Adam couldn’t see him. “Whenever they’re bored. It was my fault. We were speeding.”</p><p>“An unprompted drug search is never your fault. Fuck that guy.”</p><p>Ronan shrugged again and leaned his head against the cool metal of Noah’s car. The adrenaline had disappeared like water than the drain and he was suddenly exhausted. “It is what it is, Parrish.”</p><p>Adam hummed. “You okay for getting home?”</p><p>“Noah is here. I better go, it’s cold and he’s waiting.” Ronan blinked frustrated tears from his eyes. “Thanks for the save.”</p><p>“Anytime. Always.”</p><p>Ronan muttered a goodbye, threw his phone into his bag and the bag onto the seat. He leaned against the car, staring up at the night sky. This far out of town with barely any light pollution, the sky was a canvas of paint strokes and glittering detail. Ronan’s breath was a plume of smoke in front of him and Noah was a warm line of heat down his side. </p><p>“I fucking hate this town.”</p><p>“Well, at least it hates you right back.”</p><p>Ronan laughed, but it sounded more like a sob. “What am I gonna do when you leave, and Blue leaves, and Gansey and Adam? What do I do when I’m still here paying off my da’s debt and trying to keep my brothers above water? What do I do when he gets bored and decides we’re no longer a lesson he wants to teach?”</p><p>“When who gets bored, Ro?”</p><p>“No one,” he replied, unwilling to break the one rule in his family. <i>Keep Greenmantle a damn secret</i>. “No one, okay? Forget I said anything.”</p><p>Noah chewed his lip but nodded. “You know I’d help you get out of any situation you were in, right?”</p><p>Ronan nodded. “This isn’t one of those situations, Noah. This is a keep your head down, stay small and hope the the fucking predator doesn’t catch your scent.”</p><p>“I wish I could help, man.”</p><p>“You do. I promise that you do.”</p><p>Noah threw a warm arm over his shoulder and squeezed. “Let’s get you home. Forget this shit ever happened.”</p><p>Ronan wished it was as easy as that.</p>
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<a name="section0017"><h2>17. my father conquered seas but was not there for me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Happy weekend! This was a surprisingly hard chapter to write, think my brain is still recovering from the essay hell! Comments are always appreciated, I love hearing what you all think!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Adam lay in the dark for a long time after the call with the deputy. </p><p>Anger that reminded him too much of his father’s flooded his system and he had to spend stretched out minutes trying to calm his racing pulse. Objectively, he knew how hard Ronan’s life was, had figured out how much people looked down on him and how heavy the weight of his name actually was. He already knew how heavy the Parrish name was in Henrietta, knew that his father expected him to hold it up and keep it shiny looking. </p><p>He’d never considered what it meant when your name held the negative of that worth. </p><p>Ronan carried his father’s name, and unlike Adam, he was tarred with his father’s crimes. Adam carried his father’s successes and was forced to live up to them. Ronan had to prove he wasn’t his father in every movement he made. Adam had to prove he was as good as his father every day. </p><p>Good was relative though.</p><p>From what Ronan had told him of Niall Lynch, he was a selfish, caring, loving man with his head half lost in dreams. Ronan had spent his life adored and safe and well looked after, guarded from the crimes his father committed until he was dead and Ronan alone. Adam’s father was a cruel, petty, angry individual who put on a mask every time he left the house and was loved in their town, but no part of Adam wanted to be like him. No part of Adam wanted to succeed the way he did, or act the way he did, or feel the way he did. </p><p>Sometimes Adam wondered what it would have been like to grow up in the trailer park. Wondered if he’d be at Aglionby. Be as driven. Be as desperate to escape from his father’s home. He wondered if he’d even be alive or would there be less chance of survival when he had no medical insurance and no safe place to hide. He didn’t think he’d be friends with Ronan or Gansey. Didn’t think Ronan would be interested in him. Not that he was interested in him now. </p><p>Adam didn’t doubt that he would be interested in Ronan. </p><p>He didn’t think it was love. He wasn’t even sure if he believed in love, or if he was capable of it, but he did think that Ronan was a warm spot on a cold night, was a quiet forest where the trees whispered, or a fast car taking Adam away. </p><p>Ronan represented something that Adam couldn’t name, but he knew he <i>ached</i> for it. </p><p>Without considering it, he grabbed his phone and called Ronan. It rang for a long time before he picked up. </p><p>“Hey,” he sounded hollowed out in a way Adam had never heard from him. </p><p>“You okay?”</p><p>Ronan laughed but it was as bitter as a lemon. “Peachy.” He sucked in a shuddering breath. “Been a while since a cop felt me up.”</p><p>“What happened?”</p><p>“Was driving with Noah. K found us. We raced. He disappeared just as the cops arrived so can only assume he had that little trick planned.”</p><p>Adam sat up but didn't bother switching on the light. Moonlight made the room a hazy stranger. “You were driving?”</p><p>Ronan grunted.</p><p>Adam knew better than to give out to him. It was Ronan’s life, he knew the best choices for him. “Is the cop pressing charges?”</p><p>“Nope.” Ronan popped the <i>p</i> in an unfriendly noise. “Once the revered Parrish name was dropped, he went running. Must be nice.”</p><p>“Yeah, it’s great,” Adam replied flatly. “Love being associated with my father.”</p><p>“Better than being associated with mine," Ronan snapped back.</p><p>Silence fell; uncomfortable, angry silence. </p><p>Adam refused to break it. They stayed on the phone for a long time but neither of them spoke again.</p><p>When his phone buzzed the next morning with a message from Ronan telling him not to bother coming to study, that he was too tired, Adam wasn’t shocked. He could see Ronan pulling away, protecting himself, and as much as he didn’t want him to, Adam gave him the space he needed.</p><p>Ronan deserved that much. </p><p>***</p><p>Two weeks to his dad’s birthday and the tension was heavy in the Parrish household. His mom had hired a party planner, who had set up office in one of the smaller sitting rooms and was driving everyone who worked in the house demented with their demands. </p><p>Adam avoided them all by studying in Gansey’s in the evenings. Between that and rowing practice, he was managing to only sleep in his house. Even his dad didn’t complain about his missed dinners when it meant Adam was forging a stronger friendship with <i>Richard Gansey the third</i>. Ronan still hadn’t spoken to him, and Adam wasn’t sure what to do. With the project finished, he had no excuse to see him, and Ronan’s quick exit from Latin every day was reminding Adam how little Ronan wanted to see him. After Ronan’s angry words in the hallway, his realisation in Nino’s, and the phone call, they’d fallen into an uneasy silence. Adam missed the easy banter between them, missed how good he felt around Ronan. </p><p>He hoped Ronan hadn't noticed that Adam's feelings had changed, didn’t want to push Ronan to talk to him when he was too afraid Ronan would read the <i> want</i> off him. Years of hiding his emotions meant Adam should be more comfortable lying to Ronan but he’d never felt this way and he didn’t want to lie to him. Ronan had let him in, let him see past the walls he’d built around himself and his family, and the trust made Adam want to repay the favour. He wanted to tell the truth but he knew this wasn’t a truth Ronan would want to hear. Especially after his outburst outside the art room. </p><p>Adam was everything Ronan hated and it was a miracle if he could even be his friend. </p><p>Adam wasn’t willing to lose that. Not for something as passing as a crush. </p><p>Friday finally ended without a single word said between them. Every time Adam tried, Ronan had made his excuses and bolted. Accepting his fate for a quiet weekend avoiding his mother and the party planner, he walked down the corridor after the bell rang. He’d just closed his locker when he heard Matthew chattering behind him. That wouldn’t be unusual but something about his tone made it seem like Matthew was nervous in a way Adam had never heard from Ronan’s little brother. </p><p>“It’s okay, I have my bike.” He laughed but it was tinged with nerves. “Ronan and Dec want me home straight after school.”</p><p>“Well, I’ll drive you straight home. Your bike will fit in the trunk of my car,” K needled with a smug tone used to getting its own way. “It’ll be fun.”</p><p>“Well, see, the thing is…”</p><p>“No, don't even worry about it,” Kavinsky steamrolled him. “I’m happy to do it.”</p><p>Adam waited for them to catch up and pushed off their locker. “Matthew, you ready to head, pal? Ronan said you’d need a lift home?”</p><p>Relief made Matthew’s smile blinding. “Adam! Yeah! I am!”</p><p>K glared at Adam. “I’m driving Matthew home.”</p><p>“Ronan asked me to, K. Can’t let you take him when I already said yes.” Adam kept his voice cold, allowing for no argument. “C’mon, bud, let’s get your bike.”</p><p>They left Kavinsky glaring at them in the shadow of the hallway and slammed through the doors into the weak, winter sunlight. Adam glanced around for Ronan but couldn’t spot him. </p><p>As if reading his thoughts, Matthew said, “He’s working in the art room, trying to finish some sculpture or something.”</p><p>“Oh cool,” Adam said, aiming and missing casual. He unlocked the Porsche and waited for Matthew to put his bike in the back. “Does K bother you a lot?” He asked when they were both settled in their seats.</p><p>Matthew pulled his seatbelt on, the clicking echoing in the quiet space. He took a deep breath. “More in the last few days. I dunno why. He just seems to be everywhere. Don’t tell Ronan,” he finished with curt emphasis. “He’ll just freak out and he’s been in shit form since that cop pulled him over the other night.”</p><p>“He told you about that?”</p><p>Matthew shook his head. “I heard them talking. I’m fifteen. Not a child. I know how shit it is to be profiled like that.”</p><p>“Has it ever happened to you?” Adam asked as he reversed from the parking space. “The cops, I mean?”</p><p>“Nah, I’m lucky. I mean they've tried a few times but I’m all smiley and blonde and happy. Everyone loves me. Ronan is… Well, he’s Ronan.” He shrugged. “Dec gets it sometimes but he’s so smooth and polite, I think it’s hard for them to be anything but polite back. He has charm and I have my smile but Ronan… Gosh, Ronan just has his anger.”</p><p>Adam swallowed. “That can’t be easy for any of you.”</p><p>“Easiest for me,” he said with a higher level of self-awareness than Adam thought him capable of. “I have two older brothers looking out for me and they think I don’t see all the stuff they do but I know exactly how hard they’re working to hold us together.” Matthew switched on the radio, flicking through stations until he found some god-awful dubstep. “I’m glad Ronan has you now. You make him happy.”</p><p>“I do?”</p><p>Matthew nodded. “Way happier than he’s been in months. He doesn’t even complain that much about school since you started studying with him. Why haven’t you been over all week?”</p><p>“We had a fight.”</p><p>“Oh,” Matthew grinned. “I’m sure all will be forgiven soon.” They pulled up to the house and Matthew jumped out. “Thanks, pal.”</p><p>Adam wished he could have Matthew's faith. </p><p>***</p><p>His mom dragged him to the market on Saturday morning. Adam had planned to spend the weekend studying in his room, and ignoring his parents, but she’d told him they were going so that was that. He grabbed an extra coffee as they walked towards Ronan’s stall, ignoring how his mother stared at it in confusion.</p><p>“Mr Lynch, I was hoping for an update from your employer," she said, voice condescending and rude. Adam hid his wince. "My husband’s party is less than two weeks away, and so far, I’ve heard nothing.”</p><p>Ronan glanced up, eyes widening when he saw her. He kept his eyes purposely off Adam. “No problem. I have some photos on my phone he sent me if that’s okay or I can get him to call you tomorrow?”</p><p>“Both,” Adam’s mom snapped. </p><p>Adam flushed and placed Ronan’s coffee on the table beside the Latin homework he was working on. </p><p>His mother stared at the coffee like it was a bomb but was distracted by the phone Ronan handed her. “What is this? How old is this phone? How am I even meant to see…” She trailed off and huffed. “Adam, what do you think?”</p><p>Adam leaned over her shoulder to look at the photos. The trailer was almost complete, only the roof needed to go on. It was made of burnished metal that shone in the lights of the workroom. The workroom that looked weirdly familiar. It took Adam a second before he realised he was staring at the Aglionby art room. The paintings on the back wall gave him away. He glanced up at Ronan. </p><p>"Looks good, mom," he managed.</p><p>Ronan chewed his lip and refused to meet his eyes. </p><p>Adam remembered the first conversation; how dismissive his mom had been, how desperate Ronan had seemed to need the sale, and how uncomfortable he got when his mom called him out on the art. </p><p>Of course Ronan was The Dreamer. </p><p>Adam couldn’t believe how long it had taken him to  figure it out. Hot shame followed the realisation; he thought he and Ronan were friends, good friends, maybe even best friends, and Ronan hadn’t shared this with him, hadn’t trusted him enough. A streak of pink slashed across Ronan’s harsh cheekbones. He knew Adam had figured it out and wouldn’t even meet his eyes.</p><p>His mom hummed beside him and flicked to the next picture. </p><p>“Adam! Ronan!”</p><p>Adam tore his eyes off Ronan’s face and turned to see Gansey strolling over to him, radiant as a boy prince in a heavy grey coat and dark slacks. “Hello, you must be Adam’s mom?”</p><p>Adam’s mom beamed. “And you must be Richard Gansey. My son never stops talking about you.” Considering he’d barely had a full conversation with his mom in weeks, Adam had no idea where that lie was coming from. “You’re coming to Robert’s party next week, right? Adam said he invited you.”</p><p>“He did,” Gansey grinned. “I’m looking forward to it. Ronan, will you be coming?”</p><p>Everyone but Gansey froze. </p><p>Ronan shook his head. “Don’t think it’s my scene, to be honest. Too many suits.”</p><p>Gansey laughed. “I can lend you one if you need a suit? You have to come. Won’t be the same without you.”</p><p>“Yes,” Adam’s mom said through gritted teeth. “You must.”</p><p>Ronan glanced at Adam and away so quick he wasn’t sure he’d imagined it. Ronan scratched the back of his head. “Yeah, I can come if you want. I have a suit. I can drop the sculpture off and stick around for a bit.”</p><p>“That’d be good. To have you there, I mean,” Adam managed and some of the tension went from Ronan’s shoulders. </p><p>“And you’ll be able to meet Adam’s date, keep her entertained," Adam's mom said with the confidence of a woman never denied a thing. "Will you be bringing a date, Richard?”</p><p>“Adam’s date?” Ronan asked, eyebrows drawn together and arms across his chest. “Didn’t know you had it in you, Parrish.”</p><p>Adam rolled his eyes and muttered, “Neither did I.” He glared at his mom. “Who am I bringing, mom?”</p><p>His mom laughed, tittered really. “Sarah obviously. You asked her weeks ago. I confirmed it with her mom last week. Honestly, he’s lucky he’s has his fathers looks because he definitely doesn’t have his brains.”</p><p>“He’s top of our year,” Ronan said coldly.</p><p>His mom tittered again. It was an exceptionally annoying noise. “Except in Latin, right?”</p><p>“Right, mom," Adam agreed tiredly. "Except in Latin. Ronan is first there.”</p><p>Gansey rubbed his lower lip and watched it all like he was figuring out a complicated problem. “I can bring Blue,” he said when an awkward silence fell. “Do you think she’d like it, Ronan?”</p><p>Ronan stared at Adam like he’d just figured something important out, but he replied easily, “Oh yeah man, she’ll love it.”</p><p>Everyone but Gansey heard the sarcasm in his voice. </p><p>“Wonderful. I’ll text her now.” He glanced around and laughed. “Actually she’s probably over selling tea. I’ll go find her. It was lovely meeting you, Mrs Parrish. I’ll see you at the party.”</p><p>“You too, Richard. You’re welcome in ours whenever.” </p><p>Adam didn’t miss how she hadn’t extend the invitation to Ronan. He knew Ronan hadn’t missed it either. </p><p>She handed Ronan back his phone. “I’ll expect those pictures in an email but taken with a better quality camera. I also expect a phone call tomorrow. When I get both of them, I’ll transfer the first half of the money to your employer.”</p><p>Ronan nodded. “Yes, m’dam.”</p><p>“Come on, Adam. Let’s go home.” </p><p>“Mom, I just have to ask Ronan something for class.”</p><p>She glared at him but nodded. “Five minutes. I’m going to see if the psychics have any more of that anxiety tea.”</p><p>Before he could say anything, Ronan said, “How much of a hard time do you get for not being top of Latin? How many times have those bruises been my fault?”</p><p>Adam flinched. “Never. Not once. They were always my dad’s fault. Sometimes mine. Never yours.”</p><p>Ronan stood, seeming to tower over him even with only an inch or two separating their heights. “Adam, not once have they been your fault. If they aren’t mine, then they aren’t yours. They were always your da’s fault. You fucking hear me?”</p><p>Adam nodded. “I’m sorry about my mom.” It was hard to think with Ronan so close, with his body a warm line of heat down the front of Adam’s. “She’s not kind.”</p><p>“No one really is to me.” Like he finally realised how close they were standing, Ronan stepped back and sat down. “So a date, eh?”</p><p>“So, you’re The Dreamer, eh?”</p><p>Ronan flinched just slightly. “Don’t tell your mom.”</p><p>"Like I would," Adam replied, trying to hide his hurt from having his realisation confirmed. Ronan didn't trust him, had never trusted him. Not in anyway that counted. He wasn't sure if he managed to keep the hurt from his voice. “Why didn’t you tell me?”</p><p>“I didn’t know you and then I didn’t…”</p><p>“Trust me?” Adam asked, managing better this time to keep his voice free of his upset. “That okay, no one ever really does, trust me that is”</p><p>Ronan glanced away. “You better go. Your mom is waiting.”</p><p>Adam nodded, and left. He didn't look back but he felt Ronan's eyes on him as he walked away.</p>
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<a name="section0018"><h2>18. i don't really want a bad reputation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm so excited about this chapter! All the comments would be appreciated because I'd love to hear what you all think!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ronan’s week had started badly and kept going downhill.</p><p>Adam hadn’t spoken to him since the market. He hadn’t realised how used to Adam’s presence he’d gotten until Adam was no longer sitting across from him in the mornings, rolling his eyes at him in Latin, or chatting to Gansey about Welsh kings while Ronan pretended not to care. He’d stopped Adam from studying with him first, but Adam not wanting to be around him somehow made it worse. And it wasn’t that they <i>weren’t</i> talking, it was just that Gansey or Noah had to be there to drive the conversation, and Adam and Ronan never actually spoke to each other. Like some terrible game of doubles tennis. </p><p>Ronan felt Adam examine him sometimes; felt it like a trail of fire across his skin when he considered Ronan’s chapped and callused hands, he burned as Adam watched Ronan draw ideas for sculptures on the corners of books, and sought out the heat of his gaze when Adam stared at him like Ronan was a puzzle he could figure out. </p><p>Ronan wanted to tell him to stop. He wanted to tell Adam to take his fill, and then take more. </p><p>Ronan <i>ached</i>.</p><p>Ronan had wanted Adam since his first day in Aglionby. He cycled down dusty paths, ignored the cars that overtook him with a roar of speed, and raven boy taunts, and reminded himself this was for his brothers. Declan and Matthew had gone on early; Declan to prove they belonged and Matthew because Declan had the shitbox to drive him. Ronan hadn’t wanted to leave Mountain High. He’d already left his house and his parents in fresh graves and everything he’d ever called safe. He wanted to continue sitting with Blue at lunch and laughing at everyone else with harsh, judging eyes. But the offer to attend Aglionby was for all three Lynch brothers or no Lynch brothers so he’d swallowed down the bile burning his throat, and agreed for Matthew, if not Declan. </p><p>It would be weeks before he and Declan began repairing their fractured relationship. </p><p>That morning, Ronan hurt in every way that mattered and he’d turned that hurt into a shield of scalding anger that would burn anyone who got too close. He made sure he was unapproachable and unlikable so no one would try to welcome him or greet him or befriend him. </p><p>Ronan Lynch would endure this school. He would not like it. </p><p>When he paused for a breath at the edge of campus, Adam had appeared like an avenging knight out of the stories his mom used to tell. Head held high and fluttering raven boys around him. Hair glinting in the morning sun and mouth stretched in a careful smile. </p><p>Ronan had <i>wanted wanted wanted</i>.</p><p>Of course being Ronan, and being made up of grief and anger and <i>burning burning</i> rage, he’d introduced himself to this boy, this vision that had lit up a dark morning, by beating him in Latin and sneering whenever Adam glanced his way. </p><p>Ronan Lynch was nothing if not contrary and self-destructive. </p><p>He’d met Noah on his first day as well, hiding in the art room at break and wondering if they’d allow him to work on his sculptures after hours like they had in Mountain High. Noah had exploded into the room, taken one look at him, dropped onto a stool, and started talking to him about some fuckface teacher. </p><p>It had been the first time he’d laughed since his parents had died. </p><p>Now, Noah stood beside him as he watched Adam and Gansey walk away. He hated that he’d watched this scene a thousand times when they weren’t friends, and he was afraid now that he’d end up without them again. </p><p>“Sooooooooo, you gonna speak to him?”</p><p>Ronan shrugged and turned for the art room. “Nothing to talk about. He figured out I’m The Dreamer, and he promised not to tell his mom. We had an argument. Hell, we had a few arguments. He thinks I don’t trust him.”</p><p>“Do you?” Noah asked as he slipped into the art room. No one else stayed late. Not even the teacher. He ignored Ronan’s glare and continued, “You trust your brothers. You just about trust me and Blue but that took a long time. It wouldn’t be shocking if Gansey and Adam weren’t in the cool <i>Ronan Lynch inner circle</i> club.”</p><p>He rolled his eyes. “It’s not a fucking club, asshole. I just don’t want…” He trailed off, unable to articulate how important friendship was to him. He had very little spare energy after work and school and art so a friendship had to be worth it, had to be something worth investing his time in. He knew he loved hard and deep. There was nothing he could do about that. It was how he’d always been. He shrugged. “I trust him. I trust you and Blue. I even trust Gansey. That doesn’t change how Adam feels though.”</p><p>“You could just tell him you trust him.”</p><p>Ronan glared. “Any-fucking-way. I need to get this fucking sculpture done before the party. Take some photos of it on your phone and email them to me, will you? Apparently my phone is too shitty for Madam Parrish,” he dropped into a sarcastically low bow. “The lady demands perfection.”</p><p>Noah snorted and started taking photos. When he was finished, Ronan settled down into the quiet space he disappeared into when he was working on his art, and forgot all about Adam, and Greenmantle, money and work, schools and grades. There was just this moment, this joint to fix, this metal to shape. It wasn’t quite the high he got with racing but it was close enough. </p><p>A clip on the back of his head tore him free of his concentration. </p><p>“Jesus, fuckface, I’ve been calling you.” </p><p>Ronan glared up at Kavinsky. He pulled the sheet over the sculpture as casually as possible, hoping Kavinsky hadn’t noticed what he was working on, and glanced around the room. The light had changed, golden hues covering the room in firelight. Noah was gone. He knew he’d find a text from the other boy letting him know what time he’d left. </p><p>It was a well known fact that the outside world stopped existing when Ronan was sculpting. </p><p>He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, careful to avoid the chemicals on his fingertips and glanced up at K again. “What time is it?”</p><p>“Half five.”</p><p>Ronan nodded. He’d set an alarm for his work shift and it wasn’t due to go off for another quarter of an hour. He rolled out his shoulders. “What do you want?”</p><p>“How’d it go with the cops last week?” Ke grinned meanly. “Heard you got pulled over.”</p><p>Reality flared back into sharp focus, and Ronan stood so quickly, his stool slammed into the floor. “You knew didn’t you? You fucking prick.”</p><p>K held up his hands. “I’d heard some things but you were the one racing. Can’t just hop in and out of the scene when you feel like it, fuckface. You’re either in the know or you’re in a cell.” K grinned a feral shape. “So, you coming back to us or are you continuing this toe the line bullshit?”</p><p>“I’m not racing you, K.” Ronan's hands twitched; either for a steering wheel or a punch. He wasn't sure which. “You and me are not going to happen so fuck off.”</p><p>“No bother,” he held up his hands as if calming a wild animal. “I’m sure me and Matthew can become good friends in your stead. Parrish can’t drive him home every day.”</p><p>Rage burned bright and blinding, almost drowning out the confusion that Adam had been driving Matthew home. “Touch my little brother, fucking talk to my little brother, and I’ll kill you.”</p><p>“Big words from a boy with no resources and no standing. You know the funny thing, Ronan? I could kill you and I’d get away with it.” He smirked. “No one cares when a Lynch dies, your parents proved that, but my name means something in this town so don’t push me, fuckface, or you might just learn how powerless you really are.”</p><p>Before Ronan could reply, before Ronan could even think of a reply that didn’t involve jumping over the table and slamming his fists into Kavinsky’s face, K was gone and all the was left was the echoing noise of the door slamming. </p><p>***</p><p>Nino’s overflowed with raven boys. </p><p>Ronan moved between tables and orders, the hatch and pickups, and welcoming people at the door. Sweat dribbled down his back and his t-shirt stuck to his skin. He hadn’t had time to eat anything so his hands were shaking with exertion. The small restaurant was a collision of noise; clattering plates, chatting families, squealing children and the not-yet-deep voices of teenage boys. Steam on the windows made the outside world a blurred, hazy spacescape. </p><p>When the door opened again, he put on his customer smile and grabbed a menu. </p><p>The smile fell from his face when he saw the grey man from his kitchen standing there. </p><p>“Can you spare me a moment?” He asked pleasantly but Ronan heard the order beneath the words. </p><p>He nodded, and grabbed a passing manager. “I need five minutes.”</p><p>“Fine. Grab some pizza too. Without you eating it, it’s going to waste.”</p><p>Ronan forced a smirk and gestured for the grey man to wait outside. He raced across the restaurant and took five pieces of pizza, irritated by the judging look from the cook. </p><p>“Fuck off,” he said, wrapping the pizza in a napkin and shoving it in his apron pocket. “I’m starving.”</p><p>The cook grunted, “Parents should feed you.”</p><p>“Don’t have parents,” Ronan replied with a snarl, leaving before the man could reply. </p><p>Everyone knew the story of the Lynch’s. The dig had been intentional. </p><p>The grey man waited outside, hands dug deep in his pockets and breath a misty fog rising above his head. “I’ve found nothing,” he said, watching with something like amusement as Ronan put two pieces of pizza together and eating them like a sandwich. “But I did find some of your father’s journals, hidden in the wall of your old house. They are useless but they contained some sketches of you and your brothers. I didn’t know he was an artist as well.”</p><p>Cold air licked along Ronan's spine. “He taught me to draw,” he said it carefully so the memories wouldn’t overwell him. The sweat on his back dried and he shivered. Not even the warm pizza settling in his stomach could remove the ghostly chill of his dead father’s touch. “Do you have the journals?”</p><p>The gray man watched him closely and nodded. “I left them in your locker in school.”</p><p>“Creepy.”</p><p>The grey man shrugged. “Sometimes.”</p><p>“So, what now?” </p><p>Ronan watched the car park instead of this man who had murdered his parents. That truth was like nails on a chalkboard but screeching inside his head, screaming inside his chest. He watched the glow of lights from a car as it cast shadows across the lot. As soon as they’d parked, the driver rushed out of the winter air and into the supermarket three doors down from Nino’s.  </p><p>“I keep looking.” The grey man stepped up beside him, shoulder warm against Ronan’s sleeved one. “I just wanted to update you. Let you know Greenmantle hasn’t gotten bored yet.”</p><p>Ronan finished his pizza sandwich and made another one made of the three slices. “Nice to know the noose hasn’t tightened yet.”</p><p>“Not yet. No.” He watched Ronan eat. “Ronan Lynch,” he mused. “What must it be to carry that name in this town?”</p><p>He swallowed. “Not pleasant.”</p><p>“But it is your name. Your legacy. Yours to do with as you will.”</p><p>Cold air crawled up under Ronan’s t-shirt. “What’s it to you?”</p><p>“I gave up my name a long time ago. Hiding from a man who would use it to hunt me down again and again. He liked to hurt me. He liked to watch me bleed.” Although his face remained placid, Ronan saw how his hands seemed to bunch up in his coat pockets. A car door slammed somewhere across the lot. “I understand the weight of a name and the weight that remains when you leave it behind.”</p><p>“I’m not changing my name.”</p><p>“But you are hiding. The Dreamer is nothing more than a shield between you and the world. One day you’ll have to go without your shield.” He examined Ronan with grey eyes that missed nothing. They held no warmth like Adam’s did; instead they left a trail of cold grief in their wake. “One day, you’ll have to face the world as Ronan Lynch, son of Niall Lynch. You will have to bear the weight of your father’s choices if you want to get anywhere with your art.”</p><p>Ronan shuffled and crossed his arms. He was tired and angry and he didn’t need a criminal’s philosophising on his only break. “What’s your point?”</p><p>“What is my point?” He hummed. “Just that until you stand on your own two feet, until you stop letting the world control your actions and reactions, until you step forward, not back, your life will always be overshadowed by your father’s crimes. You deserve more than a life shaped by Niall Lynch.”</p><p>“Thanks, I guess,” he said as the door to the restaurant opened behind them, throwing out warmth and noise and a group of raven boys who strolled past them shouting about <i>poor ol’ orphan Lynch</i>. Ronan’s shoulders tensed but he didn’t respond to them. Not while he was on the clock. “But I’ve got to get back to fucking work to pay for the rent and the food and the bills and the ever-increasing loan rates your boss put on me and my brothers. I don’t have the luxury of staring the world down because it wants me on my fucking knees. It reminds me of that every fucking day.”</p><p>The grey man glared at the retreating backs of the raven boys. “Let it remind you, Lynch, but never believe it. Never believe that your rightful place is on your knees or you will never stand tall again.” He turned back, and stared at Ronan with a hard look in his eye, before stepping away. “Better get back to work. Your masters are calling.”</p><p>Ronan ignored the taunt and slammed his way back into the restaurant. </p><p>It was almost close when Adam, Gansey and Noah arrived in a quiet disruption. Despite the late hour, they ordered a large pizza off Blue. Ronan knew her annoyed face as she took the order, knew they were hoping to close early if no more customers arrived, knew how tired they both were and how they kitchen staff would be pissed to have to start cooking again when they wanted to start locking down. </p><p>Since his section only had two full tables, Ronan walked over and leaned against the edge of the booth, arms crossed and head resting on the wooden divider. “You know most waiters hate last minute customers,” he said. “We were this close to shutting the kitchens.” </p><p>Gansey flushed, “Oh sorry, we can take it to go.”</p><p>“Don’t mind him,” Blue clucked her tongue as she dropped over their drinks. “He’s been in shitty form all shift.”</p><p>“Oh fuck you,” Ronan replied, shutting his eyes and hating the feeling of Adam’s eyes as they coveted things Ronan wasn’t sure he wanted to give him tonight. Hated the feel of them. Wanted them to never leave his skin. “Noah, you wanna be my date to Adam’s dad's birthday party?” No one spoke for so long Ronan cracked open a tired eye. “What?”</p><p>Noah looked delighted, smile bright and easy. “You want <i>me</i> to be your date? Little old me? Just <i>me</i> and <i>no one</i> else?”</p><p>“Who else is there?” Ronan replied, purposely not looking at Adam. “Adam is going with someone named Sarah, and Gansey is going with Blue.”</p><p>“Oh is he?” Blue asked, eyes flashing. “You didn’t think of asking me that? Just assumed I would go with you?”</p><p>Gansey flushed. “I was going to ask you tonight. That’s why we were here.” He ran an agitated thumb across his bottom lip. “I didn’t want to text you and I couldn’t find you the other day at the market and I had a plan and this was not it.”</p><p>“Sorry, Dick,” Ronan mumbled, half asleep but still managing to be amused. </p><p>“Do you want a lift home?” Adam asked as Blue and Gansey had a whispered conversation that left them both looking much too pleased with themselves.</p><p>Ronan opened his eyes to find Adam watching him, shoulders curled in against the next attack as if he expected Ronan to say no. Sighing, Ronan glanced around the restaurant. His last few patrons had paid up and left. Their tables just needed to be cleared. The rest was mostly done and Blue was on the close shift anyway. She had to do the tills and final checks. All the managers were already gone or they wouldn’t be standing here chatting.  </p><p>“Gonna be another half hour or so?”</p><p>“I can wait,” Adam smiled; it was shaped with uncertainty and Ronan hated it. </p><p>Ronan nodded, “Okay, a lift would  be fucking good. Better get back to it.”</p><p>He flew through the last of his clean up and helped Blue with some of hers before he had to clock out. Burnt cheese and too sweet soda scented the air. Bright lights turned the crimson tables into shiny mirrors. Nothing felt real in the half light of the closed restaurant. He fell into the booth beside Noah and let his head land on his shoulder. </p><p>“Mwah.” Noah dropped a loud kiss onto the top of his head. “I would be honoured to be your date, Ro.”</p><p>“Great. You drive.” Ronan's skin seared from the casual affection. He missed his mom with a sudden, painful ache. “Pick me up like the classy fucking lady I am.”</p><p>Noah laughed. “Obviously.”</p><p>Adam glanced between them before asking, “Ready to go?”</p><p>Ronan nodded and forced himself back onto his feet. He didn’t think he was meant to hurt as much as he did at his age, but all his joints ached, his feet throbbed and his hands were covered in calluses and burns. Tiredness was a heavy weight around his neck, weighed heavier by the grey man’s words earlier. He knew he hid from his family name, tried to prevent it from allowing others to name him a criminal and a menace before he’d even spoken, but he also cultivated danger from his shaved head to his heavy boots. It was a fine balancing act; embody his own danger while discarding his father’s reputation. </p><p>Maybe he should stop hiding from the weight of the Lynch name and instead wear it with the pride he used to have in his family. They were big thoughts and Ronan was too exhausted to give them proper consideration. By the time he’d grabbed his bag from the backroom, Adam had his bike in the boot of his car and had already turned the heat on. </p><p>Ronan slid into the passenger seat gratefully and groaned at the pleasure of getting off his feet. </p><p>“You can close your eyes if you want,” Adam said quietly. “I’ll wake you when we get back to yours.”</p><p>Ronan nodded, allowing the soft music and Adam’s presence to lull him to sleep. </p><p>When he woke, they were outside his house. The car was still on, and the heat was a warm blanket, making him foggy. “We’ve been here long?”</p><p>“About ten minutes. I didn’t want to wake you yet.”</p><p>“You didn’t have to wait. I know you have to study in the morning.”</p><p>“I didn’t want to bring Sarah,” Adam blurted out. “The first I’d heard of it was when my mom said it at the market. I wasn’t planning  on bringing anyone.”</p><p>“Okay, man.” Night was an inky lake behind Adam’s head. “I believe you.”</p><p>“I’m saying this wrong,” Adam muttered.</p><p>Ronan didn’t know what Adam was trying to say, and he was sleep drunk and exhausted with it, so instead he asked, “Why are you driving Matthew home?”</p><p>Adam gave him a sharp look. “Matthew told you?”</p><p>“K mentioned it.”</p><p>“Asshole.” He tapped his long fingers on the steering wheel. “He was bothering Matthew, trying to get him to go driving with him, so I stepped in and pretended we’d agreed that I would be dropping Matthew home, and then I just kinda kept doing it?” He shrugged. “We haven’t been talking so I couldn't say it to you but I figured stopping K getting his claws into Matthew was something you’d want me to do.”</p><p>“I do trust you,” Ronan said quietly, hoping Adam would understand the sudden change of topic. “It wasn’t about me not trusting you. The Dreamer was something I’d gotten used to shielding myself with,” he repeated the grey man’s words easily because he knew they were true. “I like having my art separate from my name so people don’t associate it with my dad. My family legacy. I’d get less sales if it was made by a Lynch.”</p><p>Adam nodded. “Can’t change the story unless you try.”</p><p>“Yeah, I’ve heard that more than once tonight.” Ronan rubbed a trembling hand down his face. “I should have told you.”</p><p>“You didn’t know me. I’m sorry for thinking I had a right to it.”</p><p>“You do have the right. I want you to have the right.” Ronan scrubbed a hand over his head. “Fuck. This is coming out all wrong.” He rolled his head along the headrest until he was staring at Adam. “Adam, look at me.”</p><p>He blinked a few times before he turned to face Ronan. “You said my name.”</p><p>Ronan took him in, remembering the first time he’d sat in this car after a shift, remembered how Adam had looked ethereal in the moonlight, and it had felt like the edge of a steep cliff, staring down and not knowing if taking the next step would be worth it. Knowing Adam, having Adam in his life, was worth it a thousand times over. </p><p>Ronan kissed him. </p><p>Kissing Adam Parrish was every no he wanted to be a yes. It was every missed opportunity to ensure a roof over his head. It was every swallowed back comment. Every time he’d been silent when he’d wanted to shout out his anger. It was remembering what it meant to be a Lynch again, remembering the bravery and righteousness his parents had instilled in him through old Irish stories. It was knowing his brothers were safe and warm and protected. </p><p>Ronan never wanted to stop. </p><p>He pulled back. “Think it over,” he said, voice only trembling slightly. “I am not the easiest path.”</p><p>Adam nodded but didn’t say anything as Ronan opened the door and stepped out of the car. Adam called him before he could shut the door. </p><p>“Ronan, I’ve never been interested in the easy path.”</p><p>Ronan stepped off the cliff.</p>
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<a name="section0019"><h2>19. i hold my breath and lose the feeling that I'm on my own</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW: Canon typical abuse. Same as is shown in the book but if you want to skip it starts at “It’s my name too.” and ends at "Adam lay still". It's only one paragraph but stay safe lovelies! </p><p>As always thank you so much for the comments, they bring me so much joy!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Adam woke the morning of his Robert’s party already exhausted. </p><p>The thoughts of having to smile and make small talk and praise his bastard of a father made his stomach swirl with anxiety. He could hear the party planners ordering people around downstairs, the crash of furniture being moved and the smells of party food floating up. The whole has had been scrubbed from top to bottom even though no one would be going upstairs, and his mom hadn't stopped moving between lists, and orders, and decorations, and sorting out guests. It didn't stop being a little excited though; he hadn’t seen Ronan since the night of their kiss, and he wanted Ronan to know he’d chosen him, wanted to walk the hard part with him, and definitely wanted to kiss him again. </p><p>He got up, knowing his mom would be calling him soon anyway and spent one minute checking his shares. He’d lost in some but gained in another so he’d broke pretty even on the month. He’d already made back the ten grand he’d given to Ronan which was nice but he wished he had a way to help him. He knew though that if it was him, if he was poor and Ronan was rich, he wouldn’t want to accept that sort of help from his rich friends. He cleared his history and shut down his computer. Throwing on jeans and and a hoodie, he slipped down stairs for breakfast.</p><p>A sheriff’s deputy stood in the foyer, rocking back and forth on his heels with his hands in his pockets.</p><p>Adam paused on the steps, “Hey," he said slowly. "Is someone helping you?”</p><p>“I’m waiting on your father. Officer Jones,” he held out his hand, and Adam took it, heart pounding. “I spoke to you a while ago regarding Ronan Lynch.”</p><p>“I remember, sir." Adam stood casually, keeping his shoulders relaxed, but he felt sick. "Is that what you’re here about?”</p><p>The man took his hand from his pocket and fiddled with the clip on his gun holster. “No, nothing like that. I just have a message from the sheriff about tonight.”</p><p>Adam nodded. “Will you be attending?”</p><p>The officer laughed. “Nope. Only the top brass get to go.”</p><p>“Adam," Robert said form behind him. "Stop bothering the officer and go help your mother, you lazy sod.”</p><p>Adam managed not to flinch at his father’s voice. “Yes, sir,” he replied and walked away from the men. When he glanced back, Officer Jones was watching him with assessing eyes.</p><p>“Adam!” Robert called about an hour later. The anger in his voice made Adam’s skin crawl. "Get in here now!"</p><p>He was folding napkins at the dining room table with some of the people who worked in the kitchen. They glanced at him but he waved off the concern. Not like any of them could help him now. He forced his shoulders to relax and shoved his hands in his pockets to hide their trembling.</p><p>“You called?” he asked when he walked into the office. </p><p>Robert glared at him from winter cold blue eyes. “Shut the damn door.”</p><p>Adam did, making sure he stood as far away from his dad where he was sitting on the desk. Robert was too vain to let himself go so he still had a lean, powerful body. Muscles bulged under his shirt arms. Nausea swirled in Adam’s stomach. </p><p>“Well?” Robert snapped. </p><p>Adam made himself as small as possible. “Sir?”</p><p>“Are you going to explain why you gave Ronan Lynch ten thousand dollars of <i>my money</i> for a car that is still on his front lawn according to Officer Jones?”</p><p>Adam glanced down at his red chucks and back up again. He couldn't say it was his money because his father would think he was lying or want to know where he got it. He swallowed. </p><p>The mind that never let him down was suddenly blank and empty. </p><p>He couldn’t think of a single excuse. “I thought... The car seemed like a good investment. It’s a vintage BMW. I thought…”</p><p>“You didn’t think,” Robert interrupted. “For all your smarts, you’re a damn fool. Officer Jones said you were throwing around my name, using power I’ve gathered in this town, to keep that boy out of jail where he belongs. His damn father was a criminal. His damn mother was one too. The only thing Lynches are good for is being locked up and having the key thrown away.”</p><p>Adam said nothing. </p><p>“Your mother told me you put him on the guest list?" Robert's voice went icy, "Maybe I’ll have a conversation with him tonight.”</p><p>“Don’t,” Adam said, and winced. </p><p>“Don’t what, son?” Robert pushed himself up off the desk. “Talk to that damn boy about how he’s putting my name into the gutter? Talk about how he has no right to be around the Parrish name? Talk about how he's below me? How he isn't even worth the dirt I walk on?”</p><p>“It’s my name too.”</p><p>“What did you say, son?”</p><p>Adam swallowed. “It’s my name too,” he whispered.</p><p>The punch came too fast to dodge, not that Adam would have even if he could. </p><p>He landed on his side gasping at the pain spreading through his stomach. </p><p>“Party tonight means you can’t have bruises. Can’t have you embarrass your mother like that.” He kicked Adam in the ribs, once, twice, three times. “You need to learn the value of money, son. The value of <i>my</i> money. Maybe I’ll make you work for me for a year, earn your college tuition instead of just handing it to your spoilt self.” He kicked Adam one more time.</p><p>Adam lay still, gasping in breaths and forcing back tears. His stomach burned. His ribs were on fire. He swallowed back bile and tilted his face into the cool, wood floor. The door behind him opened and he tensed.</p><p>“Oh, Adam.” His mother’s voice was thick with disapproval. “What did you do now?”</p><p>Grief was an ocean, and Adam was drowning. </p><p>“Well, get up, son," Robert said, sickly sweet. "Your mother needs you to help with the party.”</p><p>Taking a shallow breath, Adam pushed himself to his knees on shaking arms. He hurt in an almost brutal way. He stood. “I just have to go to the bathroom and then I’ll be back.”</p><p>He managed not to vomit until he made it to the toilet bowl. </p><p>***</p><p>Adam stood at the front door and smiled as guests came into the house. </p><p>Torches lit up the long stretch of the driveway and a red carpet waited for guests to step out of their immaculate cars. Valet's were parking them around the side of the house. Fairy lights lit up the bushes like twinkling stars. Money was clear in every dress, every dripping of diamonds, every shining car, and every suit. The night sat above them as deep as a dark ocean, only the moon swimming in it. </p><p>It would almost have been beautiful except that Adam hurt all over and he wanted to escape to his room and hide under the covers. The suit he was wearing was tight across his bruised chest, and breathing was difficult, but he managed to paste a smile on his face and direct people to the different rooms. When Gansey appeared with Blue, his smile turned into a real one. Blue had on three different dresses, red, purple and blue, each were a different length and all were ripped. She looked so different from the controlled beauty around them that Adam couldn’t help but beam at her. </p><p>“You look amazing,” he smiled.</p><p>“Thank you. I made it myself.” She twirled with a grin and then glanced around the foyer. “Quite a place you’ve got here.”</p><p>“It’s my parent's house. I’m only here for like six more months.” He laughed like he wasn’t counting down obsessively. “There’s a bar in there. Food in there." He pointed to the different rooms. "Seats and heat lamps out the back. I can come find you when everyone is here.”</p><p>Gansey grinned. “Anyone we’re buttering up?”</p><p>“Just my parents. If you can make them like me by the end of the night that’d be great.” He laughed again but the movement caught his bruises and it turned into more of a grimace. </p><p>Gansey watched him closely. He rubbed his finger along his bottom lip. "Are you okay?"</p><p>“It’s nothing." He forced himself to smile. "Go have fun. I’ll find you later.”</p><p>They left but they started whispering as soon as they were out of earshot. Ignoring the thrum of apprehension, Adam went back to greeting people and offering directions. </p><p>It was almost half an hour later when he saw Ronan. </p><p>Ronan was all in black. The sharp lines of his suit made him an imposing figure with broad shoulders, strong arms and long legs. He’d recently shaved his head and the claws of his tattoo scratched along his pale neck. He was half in shadow; cheekbones and jawline weapons in the dark. He watched Adam with hooded eyes and Adam swallowed on a suddenly dry throat. </p><p>Ronan was beautiful and dangerous. </p><p>Adam wanted to taste his lips again. </p><p>Noah walked up behind him carrying a bulky box, laughing at something Ronan said to him. They strolled over to Adam. He felt like his pulse would burst from his skin as Ronan’s eyes examined him head to toe. </p><p>“Hey, Parrish." His voice was gravel rough. "You clean up nice.”</p><p>Adam grinned. “You don’t look so bad yourself. That the sculpture?”</p><p>“Yeah, your mom said I could just bring it with me since I was invited to the party.” Ronan smirked. “She seemed real thrilled about that fucking fact.”</p><p>Noah pushed Ronan aside and handed the weighty box to Adam. “I’m going to get a drink and find the others. Try not to make out like right here in front of everyone.” He wandered into the ground with a pleased expression when he saw the shock on their faces. </p><p>When Adam took the full weight of the sculpture, he couldn’t help but gasp. It pulled at his hurt muscles and ribs. He almost dropped it on instinct but Ronan caught it. </p><p>“What the fuck, Parrish?" His eyes searched Adam's face for clues. "Are you okay?”</p><p>Adam shrugged. </p><p>“C’mon.” Ronan strode through the crowd and Adam was powerless to stop him. He left the sculpture on the table of presents and turned to Adam. “Where’s your bedroom?”</p><p>Adam was about to argue, but seeing the challenging look in Ronan’s eyes, he just sighed and led him up the back staircase. His palms were damp when he opened the door, and he was glad he’d cleaned it up before going down to the party.</p><p>Ronan whistled quietly. “Jesus fucking Mary, this is bigger than my whole house.” He shook his head and turned dark eyes on Adam. “Show me.”</p><p>Wincing, Adam pulled his tie loose and threw it on his bed. He untucked his shirt and unbuttoned it. It shrugged off his suit jacket and shirt together and draped them across his chair. Before he touched his vest, he gripped Ronan’s reaching wrists. </p><p>“Promise me you won’t freak out.”</p><p>Ronan glared at him.</p><p>“Ronan, I’m not showing you unless you swear not to do anything.”</p><p>He shook Adam’s hands free and nodded. “I fucking promise I won’t do anything.” </p><p>Ronan reached forward and pulled Adam’s vest from his trousers. Something in Adam mourned the fact that they were doing this because of his abuse and not for other, nicer reasons. He pushed those thoughts aside, knowing that Ronan probably wouldn’t even be interested when he saw how weak Adam was, how easily he let himself be pushed around. </p><p>“Fucking hell, Adam." He took in a sharp breath. "How are you even standing?”</p><p>Adam shrugged and then grimaced at the shot of pain. “It’s not so bad.”</p><p>Ronan snorted. “I need to bandage this up. Support your ribs if you’re going to be standing all night. Do you have a first aid kit?”</p><p>“In the ensuite.”</p><p>“Of fucking course you do." Ronan kept mumbling as he went in search of the kit, "Because your piece of shit dad does this enough that you need one close.”  </p><p>Adam sat on the bed and heaved in a shuddering breath. “I’m okay, Lynch. I promise.”</p><p>“How long until your birthday?”</p><p>“July.”</p><p>Ronan winced. “Any time you want to leave, you can stay in ours. Hell, I bet Gansey would let you go to his too. Doesn’t he have that massive warehouse he’s always trying to get me and Blue to visit?”</p><p>Adam nodded. “It’s pretty big.”</p><p>“Bet he’d love to have you there." He came out with the green box and examined Adam with softer eyes that Adam felt he deserved. "Stand up.”</p><p>Adam stood and Ronan wrapped bandages around his middle. It was tight and a bit constrictive but he could feel the support almost straight away. “How do you know how to do this?”</p><p>“Boxing. Dad taught us to wrap injuries pretty young.” Ronan tied off the bandage and let one finger trail down Adam’s finger to his hipbone before stepping back. “Think he was training for the same life he lived,” he shrugged with practiced nonchalance. “You don’t have to be what your parents expect you to be.”</p><p>Adams skin burned from the touch. “I better get dressed.”</p><p>He was just finishing buttoning up his shirt when Kavinsky slammed into the room. “Fingered I’d find you two here finishing a quickie.” He smirked cruelly. “Your date is looking for you, Adam. Nice girl really. Sad you’re too much of a prick to treat her well.”</p><p>Ronan stood, fists clenched, but relaxed when Adam touched his back softly. “I’ll go find Sarah now," he said. "Noah’s probably looking for you too, Lynch.”</p><p>Ronan nodded and stalked past K, slamming into his shoulder as he did. </p><p>“Prick,” Kavinsky called after him cheerfully. “So, there’s a real nice box on the table and sure, didn’t I sneak a fucking glance? And if it isn’t the sculpture Lynch has been working on for the last few weeks. Do you think your mom will still pay him when she knows that not only did a teenager make her husband’s birthday present, but a Lynch at that?”</p><p>Adam took a step forward. “Fucking leave it, K.”</p><p>“And why would I do that? All you’ve been doing is interfering lately," K snarled. "Stopping me getting close to Ronan. Stopping me getting close to Matthew. Why shouldn’t I ruin whatever you and Lynch have going on?”</p><p>“What do you want? What is your endgame here?" Adam asked, keeping his voice calm. "Ronan doesn’t want you. He will never want you. Why don’t you just fuck off and find someone who does?”</p><p>“Fuck you, Parrish. Fuck you.” K disappeared from his doorway. </p><p>Adam closed his eyes. It was going to be a long night.</p>
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